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1792-1878, by C. A. Fyffe
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Author: C. A. Fyffe
Edition: 10
Language: English
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, HISTORY OF MODERN EUROPE 1792-1878 **
HISTORY
OF
MODERN EUROPE
1792-1878
BY
C. A. FYFFE, M.A.
POPULAR EDITION
With Maps
CONTENTS.
PREFACE.
HISTORY 2
The Project Gutenberg eBook of History of Modern Europe 1792-1878, by C. A. Fyffe
Transcriber's Note
CHAPTER I.
CHAPTER II.
French and Austrian Armies on the Flemish Frontier-Prussia enters the War-Brunswick
invades France-His Proclamation-Insurrection of Aug. 10 at Paris-Massacres of
September-Character of the War-Brunswick, checked at Valmy, retreats-The War
becomes a Crusade of France-Neighbours of France-Custine enters Mainz-Dumouriez
conquers the Austrian Netherlands- Nice and Savoy annexed-Decree of the Convention
against all Governments- Execution of Louis XVI.-War with England, followed by war
with the Mediterranean States-Condition of England-English Parties, how affected by
the Revolution-The Gironde and the Mountain-Austria recovers the Netherlands-The
Allies invade France-La Vendée-Revolutionary System of 1793-Errors of the
Allies-New French Commanders and Democratic Army-Victories of Jourdan, Hoche,
and Pichegru-Prussia withdrawing from the War-Polish Affairs-Austria abandons the
Netherlands-Treaties of Basle-France in 1795-Insurrection of 13
Vendémiaire-Constitution of 1795-The Directory-Effect of the Revolution on the Spirit
of Europe up to 1795
CHAPTER III.
CONTENTS. 3
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of the idea of Italian Independence-Battles of Arcola and Rivoli-Peace with the Pope at
Tolentino-Venice-Preliminaries of Leoben-The French in Venice-The French take the
Ionian Islands and give Venice to Austria-Genoa-Coup d'état of 17 Fructidor in
Paris-Treaty of Campo Formio-Victories of England at Sea-Bonaparte's project against
Egypt
CHAPTER IV.
CHAPTER V.
CHAPTER VI.
CONTENTS. 4
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Potsdam between Prussia and the Allies-The French enter Vienna-Haugwitz sent to
Napoleon with Prussian Ultimatum-Battle of Austerlitz-Haugwitz signs a Treaty of
Alliance with Napoleon-Peace-Treaty of Presburg-End of the Holy Roman
Empire-Naples given to Joseph Bonaparte-Battle of Maida-The Napoleonic Empire and
Dynasty-Federation of the Rhine-State of Germany-Possibility of maintaining the
Empire of 1806
CHAPTER VII.
Death of Pitt-Ministry of Fox and Grenville-Napoleon forces Prussia into war with
England, and then offers Hanover to England-Prussia resolves on war with
Napoleon-State of Prussia-Decline of the Army-Southern Germany with
Napoleon-Austria neutral-England and Russia about to help Prussia, but not
immediately-Campaign of 1806-Battles of Jena and Auerstädt-Ruin of the Prussian
Army-Capitulation of Fortresses-Demands of Napoleon-The War continues-Berlin
Decree-Exclusion of English goods from the Continent-Russia enters the
war-Campaign in Poland and East Prussia-Eylau-Treaty of
Bartenstein-Friedland-Interview at Tilsit-Alliance of Napoleon and Alexander-Secret
Articles-English expedition to Denmark-The French enter Portugal-Prussia after the
Peace of Tilsit-Stein's Edict of Emancipation-The Prussian Peasant-Reform of the
Prussian Army, and creation of Municipalities-Stein's other projects of Reform, which
are not carried out
CHAPTER VIII.
Spain in 1806-Napoleon uses the quarrel between Ferdinand and Godoy-He affects to
be Ferdinand's Protector-Dupont's Army enters Spain-Murat in Spain-Charles
abdicates-Ferdinand King-Savary brings Ferdinand to Bayonne-Napoleon makes both
Charles and Ferdinand resign-Spirit of the Spanish Nation-Contrast with
Germany-Rising of all Spain-The Notables at Bayonne-Campaign of 1808-Capitulation
of Baylen-Wellesley lands in Portugal-Vimieiro-Convention of Cintra-Effect of the
Spanish Rising on Europe-War Party in Prussia-Napoleon and Alexander at
Erfurt-Stein resigns, and is proscribed-Napoleon in Spain-Spanish Misgovernment-
Campaign on the Ebro-Campaign of Sir John Moore-Corunna-Napoleon leaves
Spain-Siege of Saragossa-Successes of the French
CHAPTER IX.
Austria preparing for war-The war to be one on behalf of the German Nation-Patriotic
movement in Prussia-Expected Insurrection in North Germany-Plans of
Campaign-Austrian Manifesto to the Germans-Rising of the Tyrolese-Defeats of the
Archduke Charles in Bavaria-French in Vienna-Attempts of Dörnberg and Schill-Battle
of Aspern-Second passage of the Danube-Battle of Wagram-Armistice of
Znaim-Austria waiting for Events-Wellesley in Spain-He gains the Battle of Talavera,
CONTENTS. 5
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CHAPTER X.
CHAPTER XI.
CHAPTER XII.
THE RESTORATION.
CONTENTS. 6
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The Restoration of 1814-Norway-Naples-Westphalia-Spain-The Spanish Constitution
overthrown: victory of the clergy-Restoration in France-The Charta-Encroachments of
the nobles and clergy-Growing hostility to the Bourbons-Congress of
Vienna-Talleyrand and the Four Powers-The Polish question-The Saxon
question-Theory of Legitimacy-Secret alliance against Russia and
Prussia-Compromise-The Rhenish Provinces-Napoleon leaves Elba and lands in
France-His declarations-Napoleon at Grenoble, at Lyons, at Paris-The Congress of
Vienna unites Europe against France-Murat's action in Italy-The Acte Additionnel-The
Champ de Mai-Napoleon takes up the offensive-Battles of Ligny, Quatre Bras,
Waterloo-Affairs at Paris-Napoleon sent to St. Helena-Wellington and
Fouché-Arguments on the proposed cession of French territory-Treaty of Holy
Alliance-Second Treaty of Paris-Conclusion of the work of the Congress of
Vienna-Federation of Germany-Estimate of the Congress of Vienna and of the Treaties
of 1815-The Slave Trade
CHAPTER XIII.
CHAPTER XIV.
CONTENTS. 7
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CHAPTER XV.
CHAPTER XVI.
CHAPTER XVII.
CONTENTS. 8
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CHAPTER XVIII.
CHAPTER XIX.
Europe in 1789 and in 1848-Agitation in Western Germany before and after the
Revolution at Paris-Austria and Hungary-The March Revolution at Vienna-Flight of
Metternich-The Hungarian Diet-Hungary wins its independence-Bohemian
movement-Autonomy promised to Bohemia- Insurrection of Lombardy-Of
Venice-Piedmont makes war on Austria-A general Italian war against Austria
imminent-The March Days at Berlin-Frederick William IV.-A National Assembly
promised- Schleswig-Holstein-Insurrection in Holstein-War between Germany and
Denmark-The German Ante-Parliament-Republican Rising in Baden-Meeting of the
German National Assembly at Frankfort-Europe generally in March, 1848-The French
Provisional Government-The National Workshops-The Government and the Red
Republicans-French National Assembly-Riot of May 15-Measures against the National
Workshops-The Four Days of June-Cavaignac-Louis Napoleon-He is elected to the
Assembly-Elected President
CHAPTER XX.
CONTENTS. 9
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of Custozza-The Austrians enter Milan-Austrian Court and Hungary-The Serbs in
Southern Hungary-Serb Congress at Carlowitz-Jellacic-Affairs of Croatia-Jellacic, the
Court and the Hungarian Movement-Murder of Lamberg-Manifesto of October 3-
Vienna on October 6-The Emperor at Olmütz-Windischgrätz conquers Vienna-The
Parliament at Kremsier-Schwarzenberg Minister-Ferdinand abdicates-Dissolution of
the Kremsier Parliament-Unitary Edict-Hungary -The Roumanians in Transylvania-The
Austrian Army occupies Pesth- Hungarian Government at Debreczin-The Austrians
driven out of Hungary-Declaration of Hungarian Independence-Russian
Intervention-The Hungarian Summer Campaign-Capitulation of Vilagos-Italy-Murder
of Rossi-Tuscany-The March Campaign in Lombardy-Novara-Abdication of Charles
Albert-Victor Emmanuel-Restoration in Tuscany-French Intervention in Rome-Defeat
of Oudinot-Oudinot and Lesseps-The French enter Rome-The Restored Pontifical
Government-Fall of Venice-Ferdinand reconquers Sicily-Germany-The National
Assembly at Frankfort-The Armistice of Malmö-Berlin from April to September-The
Prussian Army-Last Days of the Prussian Parliament-Prussian Constitution granted by
Edict-The German National Assembly and Austria-Frederick William IV. elected
Emperor-He refuses the Crown-End of the National Assembly- Prussia attempts to
form a separate Union-The Union Parliament at Erfurt-Action of
Austria-Hesse-Cassel-The Diet of Frankfort
restored-Olmütz-Schleswig-Holstein-Germany after 1849-Austria after 1851-France
after 1848-Louis Napoleon-The October Message-Law Limiting the Franchise-Louis
Napoleon and the Army-Proposed Revision of the Constitution-The Coup
d'Etat-Napoleon III. Emperor
CHAPTER XXI.
CHAPTER XXII.
CONTENTS. 10
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III.-The Meeting at Plombières-Preparations in Italy-Treaty of January, 1859-Attempts
at Mediation-Austrian Ultimatum-Campaign of 1859-Magenta-Movement in Central
Italy-Solferino-Napoleon and Prussia-Interview of Villafranca-Cavour resigns-Peace of
Zürich-Central Italy after Villafranca-The Proposed Congress-"The Pope and the
Congress"-Cavour resumes office-Cavour and Napoleon-Union of the Duchies and the
Romagna with Piedmont-Savoy and Nice added to France-Cavour on this
cession-European opinion-Naples-Sicily-Garibaldi lands at Marsala-Capture of
Palermo-The Neapolitans evacuate Sicily-Cavour and the Party of Action-Cavour's
Policy as to Naples-Garibaldi on the mainland-Persano and Villamarina at
Naples-Garibaldi at Naples-The Piedmontese Army enters Umbria and the
Marches-Fall of Ancona-Garibaldi and Cavour-The Armies on the Volturno-Fall of
Gaeta-Cavour's Policy with regard to Rome and Venice-Death of Cavour-The Free
Church in the Free State
CHAPTER XXIII.
CHAPTER XXIV.
CHAPTER XXV.
EASTERN AFFAIRS.
CONTENTS. 11
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France after 1871-Alliance of the Three Emperors-Revolt of Herzegovina- The
Andrássy Note-Murder of the Consuls at Salonika-The Berlin Memorandum-Rejected
by England-Abdul Aziz deposed-Massacres in Bulgaria-Servia and Montenegro
declare War-Opinion in England-Disraeli- Meeting of Emperors at Reichstadt-Servian
Campaign-Declaration of the Czar-Conference at Constantinople-Its Failure-The
London Protocol- Russia declares War-Advance on the Balkans-Osman at
Plevna-Second Attack on Plevna-The Shipka Pass-Roumania-Third Attack on
Plevna-Todleben- Fall of Plevna-Passage of the Balkans-Armistice-England-The Fleet
passes the Dardanelles-Treaty of San Stefano-England and Russia-Secret
Agreement-Convention with Turkey-Congress of Berlin-Treaty of Berlin-Bulgaria
MAPS.
MODERN EUROPE.
PREFACE.
In acceding to the Publishers' request for a re-issue of the "History of Modern Europe,"
in the form of a popular edition, I feel that I am only fulfilling what would have been
the wish of the Author himself. A few manuscript corrections and additions found in
his own copy of the work have been adopted in the present edition; in general,
however, my attention in revising each sheet for the press has been devoted to securing
an accurate reproduction of the text and notes as they appeared in the previous editions
in three volumes. I trust that in this cheaper and more portable form the work will
prove, both to the student and the general reader, even more widely acceptable than
heretofore.
HENRIETTA F. A. FYFFE.
MODERN EUROPE. 12
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The object of this work is to show how the States of Europe have gained the form and
character which they possess at the present moment. The outbreak of the Revolutionary
War in 1792, terminating a period which now appears far removed from us, and setting
in motion forces which have in our own day produced a united Germany and a united
Italy, forms the natural starting-point of a history of the present century. I have
endeavoured to tell a simple story, believing that a narrative in which facts are chosen
for their significance, and exhibited in their real connection, may be made to convey as
true an impression as a fuller history in which the writer is not forced by the necessity
of concentration to exercise the same rigour towards himself and his materials. The
second volume of the work will bring the reader down to the year 1848: the third, down
to the present time.
London, 1880.
[1]
PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION OF THE FIRST VOLUME.
In revising this volume for the second edition I have occupied myself mainly with two
sources of information-the unpublished Records of the English Foreign Office, and the
published works which have during recent years resulted from the investigation of the
Archives of Vienna. The English Records from 1792 to 1814, for access to which I
have to express my thanks to Lord Granville, form a body of firsthand authority of
extraordinary richness, compass, and interest. They include the whole correspondence
between the representatives of Great Britain at Foreign Courts and the English Foreign
Office; a certain number of private communications between Ministers and these
representatives; a quantity of reports from consuls, agents, and "informants" of every
description; and in addition to these the military reports, often admirably vivid and full
of matter, sent by the British officers attached to the head-quarters of our Allies in most
PREFACE. 13
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of the campaigns from 1792 to 1814. It is impossible that any one person should go
through the whole of this material, which it took the Diplomatic Service a quarter of a
century to write. I have endeavoured to master the correspondence from each quarter of
Europe which, for the time being, had a preponderance in political or military interest,
leaving it when its importance became obviously subordinate to that of others; and
although I have no doubt left untouched much that would repay investigation, I trust
that the narrative has gained in accuracy from a labour which was not a light one, and
that the few short extracts which space has permitted me to throw into the notes may
serve to bring the reader nearer to events. At some future time I hope to publish a
selection from the most important documents of this period. It is strange that our
learned Societies, so appreciative of every distant and trivial chronicle of the Middle
Ages, should ignore the records of a time of such surpassing interest, and one in which
England played so great a part. No just conception can be formed of the difference
between English statesmanship and that of the Continental Courts in integrity,
truthfulness, and public spirit, until the mass of diplomatic correspondence preserved at
London has been studied; nor, until this has been done, can anything like an adequate
biography of Pitt be written.
The second and less important group of authorities with which I have busied myself
during the work of revision comprises the works of Hüffer, Vivenot, Beer, Helfert, and
others, based on Austrian documents, along with the Austrian documents and letters
that have been published by Vivenot. The last-named writer is himself a partizan, but
the material which he has given to the world is most valuable. The mystery in which
the Austrian Government until lately enveloped all its actions caused some of these to
be described as worse than they really were; and I believe that in the First Edition I
under-estimated the bias of Prussian and North-German writers. Where I have seen
reasons to alter any statements, I have done so without reserve, as it appears to me
childish for any one who attempts to write history to cling to an opinion after the
balance of evidence seems to be against it. The publication of the second volume of
this work has been delayed by the revision of the first; but I hope that it will appear
before many months more. I must express my obligations to Mr. Oscar Browning, a
fellow-labourer in the same field, who not only furnished me with various corrections,
but placed his own lectures at my disposal; and to Mr. Alfred Kingston, whose
unfailing kindness and courtesy make so great a difference to those whose work lies in
the department of the Record Office which is under his care.
London, 1883.
[2]
PREFACE TO THE SECOND VOLUME.
In writing this volume I have not had the advantage of consulting the English Foreign
Office Records for a later period than the end of 1815. A rule not found necessary at
While regretting that I have not been able to use the London archives later than 1815, I
believe that it is nevertheless possible, without recourse to unpublished papers, to write
the history of the succeeding thirty years with substantial correctness. There exist in a
published form, apart from documents printed officially, masses of first-hand material
of undoubtedly authentic character, such as the great English collection known by the
somewhat misleading name of Wellington Despatches, New Series; or again, the
collection printed as an appendix to Prokesch von Osten's History of the Greek
Rebellion, or the many volumes of Gentz' Correspondence belonging to the period
about 1820, when Gentz was really at the centre of affairs. The Metternich papers,
interesting as far as they go, are a mere selection. The omissions are glaring, and
scarcely accidental. Many minor collections bearing on particular events might be
named, such as those in Guizot's Mémoires. Frequent references will show my
obligation to the German series of historical works constituting the Leipzig
Staatengeschichte, as well as to French authors who, like Viel-Castel, have worked
with original sources of information before them. There exist in English literature
singularly few works on this period of Continental history.
A greater publicity was introduced into political affairs on the Continent by the
establishment of Parliamentary Government in France in 1815, and even by the
attempts made to introduce it in other States. In England we have always had freedom
of discussion, but the amount of information made public by the executive in recent
times has been enormously greater than it was at the end of the last century. The only
documents published at the outbreak of the war of 1793 were, so far as I can ascertain,
the well-known letters of Chauvelin and Lord Grenville. During the twenty years'
struggle with France next to nothing was known of the diplomatic transactions between
England and the Continental Powers. But from the time of the Reform Bill onwards the
amount of information given to the public has been constantly increasing, and the
reader of Parliamentary Papers in our own day is likely to complain of diffusiveness
rather than of reticence. Nevertheless the perusal of published papers can never be quite
the same thing as an examination of the originals; and the writer who first has access to
the English archives after 1815 will have an advantage over those who have gone
before him.
The completion of this volume has been delayed by almost every circumstance adverse
to historical study and production, including a severe Parliamentary contest. I trust,
however, that no trace of partisanship or unrest appears in the work, which I have
valued for the sake of the mental discipline which it demanded. With quieter times the
third volume will, I trust, advance more rapidly.
CHAPTER I.
On the morning of the 19th of April, 1792, after weeks of stormy agitation in Paris, the
Ministers of Louis XVI. brought down a letter from the King to the Legislative
Assembly of France. The letter was brief but significant. It announced that the King
intended to appear in the Hall of Assembly at noon on the following day. Though the
letter did not disclose the object of the King's visit, it was known that Louis had given
way to the pressure of his Ministry and the national cry for war, and that a declaration
of war against Austria was the measure which the King was about to propose in person
to the Assembly. On the morrow the public thronged the hall; the Assembly broke off
its debate at midday in order to be in readiness for the King. Louis entered the hall in
the midst of deep silence, and seated himself beside the President in the chair which
was now substituted for the throne of France. At the King's bidding General
Dumouriez, Minister of Foreign Affairs, read a report to the Assembly upon the
relations of France to foreign Powers. The report contained a long series of charges
against Austria, and concluded with the recommendation of war. When Dumouriez
ceased reading Louis rose, and in a low voice declared that he himself and the whole of
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the Ministry accepted the report read to the Assembly; that he had used every effort to
maintain peace, and in vain; and that he was now come, in accordance with the terms
of the Constitution, to propose that the Assembly declare war against the Austrian
Sovereign. It was not three months since Louis himself had supplicated the Courts of
Europe for armed aid against his own subjects. The words which he now uttered were
put in his mouth by men whom he hated, but could not resist: the very outburst of
applause that followed them only proved the fatal antagonism that existed between the
nation and the King. After the President of the Assembly had made a short answer,
Louis retired from the hall. The Assembly itself broke up, to commence its debate on
the King's proposal after an interval of some hours. When the House re-assembled in
the evening, those few courageous men who argued on grounds of national interest and
justice against the passion of the moment could scarcely obtain a hearing. An appeal
for a second day's discussion was rejected; the debate abruptly closed; and the
declaration of war was carried against seven dissentient votes. It was a decision big
with consequences for France and for the world. From that day began the struggle
between Revolutionary France and the established order of Europe. A period opened in
which almost every State on the Continent gained some new character from the
aggressions of France, from the laws and political changes introduced by the
conqueror, or from the awakening of new forces of national life in the crisis of
successful resistance or of humiliation. It is my intention to trace the great lines of
European history from that time to the present, briefly sketching the condition of some
of the principal States at the outbreak of the Revolutionary War, and endeavouring to
distinguish, amid scenes of ever-shifting incident, the steps by which the Europe of
1792 has become the Europe of today.
The first two years of the Revolution had ended without bringing France into collision
with foreign Powers. This was not due to any goodwill that the Courts of Europe bore
to the French people, or to want of effort on the part of the French aristocracy to raise
the armies of Europe against their own country. The National Assembly, which met in
1789, had cut at the roots of the power of the Crown; it had deprived the nobility of
their privilees, and laid its hand upon the revenues of the Church. The brothers of King
Louis XVI., with a host of nobles too impatient to pursue a course of steady political
opposition at home, quitted France, and wearied foreign Courts with their appeals for
armed assistance. The absolute monarchs of the Continent gave them a warm and even
ostentatious welcome; but they confined their support to words and tokens of
distinction, and until the summer of 1791 the Revolution was not seriously threatened
with the interference of the stranger. The flight of King Louis from Paris in June, 1791,
followed by his capture and his strict confinement within the Tuileries, gave rise to the
first definite project of foreign intervention. [4] Louis had fled from his capital and
from the National Assembly; he returned, the hostage of a populace already familiar
with outrage and bloodshed. For a moment the exasperation of Paris brought the Royal
Family into real jeopardy. The Emperor Leopold, brother of Marie Antoinette,
trembled for the safety of his unhappy sister, and addressed a letter to the European
Courts from Padua, on the 6th of July, proposing that the Powers should unite to
preserve the Royal Family of France from popular violence. Six weeks later the
Emperor and King Frederick William II. of Prussia met at Pillnitz, in Saxony. A
declaration was published by the two Sovereigns, stating that they considered the
position of the King of France to be matter of European concern, and that, in the event
of all the other great Powers consenting to a joint action, they were prepared to supply
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an armed force to operate on the French frontier.
Had the National Assembly instantly declared war on Leopold and Frederick William,
its action would have been justified by every rule of international law. The Assembly
did not, however, declare war, and for a good reason. It was known at Paris that the
manifesto was no more than a device of the Emperor's to intimidate the enemies of the
Royal Family. Leopold, when he pledged himself to join a coalition of all the Powers,
was in fact aware that England would be no party to any such coalition. He was
determined to do nothing that would force him into war; and it did not occur to him that
French politicians would understand the emptiness of his threats as well as he did
himself. Yet this turned out to be the case; and whatever indignation the manifesto of
Pillnitz excited in the mass of the French people, it was received with more derision
than alarm by the men who were cognisant of the affairs of Europe. All the politicians
of the National Assembly knew that Prussia and Austria had lately been on the verge of
war with one another upon the Eastern question; they even underrated the effect of the
French revolution in appeasing the existing enmities of the great Powers. No important
party in France regarded the Declaration of Pillnitz as a possible reason for hostilities;
and the challenge given to France was soon publicly withdrawn. It was withdrawn
when Louis XVI., by accepting the Constitution made by the National Assembly,
placed himself, in the sight of Europe, in the position of a free agent. On the 14th
September, 1791, the King, by a solemn public oath, identified his will with that of the
nation. It was known in Paris that he had been urged by the emigrants to refuse his
assent, and to plunge the nation into civil war by an open breach with the Assembly.
The frankness with which Louis pledged himself to the Constitution, the seeming
sincerity of his patriotism, again turned the tide of public opinion in his favour. His
flight was forgiven; the restrictions placed upon his personal liberty were relaxed.
Louis seemed to be once more reconciled with France, and France was relieved from
the ban of Europe. The Emperor announced that the circumstances which had provoked
the Declaration of Pillnitz no longer existed, and that the Powers, though prepared to
revive the League if future occasion should arise, suspended all joint action in
reference to the internal affairs of France.
The National Assembly, which, in two years, had carried France so far towards the goal
of political and social freedom, now declared its work ended. In the mass of the nation
there was little desire for further change. The grievances which pressed most heavily
upon the common course of men's lives-unfair taxation, exclusion from public
employment, monopolies among the townspeople, and the feudal dues which
consumed the produce of the peasant-had been swept away. It was less by any general
demand for further reform than by the antagonisms already kindled in the Revolution
that France was forced into a new series of violent changes. The King himself was not
sincerely at one with the nation; in everything that most keenly touched his conscience
he had unwillingly accepted the work of the Assembly. The Church and the noblesse
were bent on undoing what had already been done. Without interfering with doctrine or
ritual, the National Assembly had re-organised the ecclesiastical system of France, and
had enforced that supremacy of the State over the priesthood to which, throughout the
eighteenth century, the Governments of Catholic Europe had been steadily tending. The
Civil Constitution of the Clergy, which was created by the National Assembly in 1790,
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transformed the priesthood from a society of landowners into a body of salaried
officers of the State, and gave to the laity the election of their bishops and ministers.
The change, carried out in this extreme form, threw the whole body of bishops and a
great part of the lower clergy into revolt. Their interests were hurt by the sale of the
Church lands; their consciences were wounded by the system of popular election,
which was condemned by the Pope. In half the pulpits of France the principles of the
Revolution were anathematised, and the vengeance of heaven denounced against the
purchasers of the secularised Church lands. Beyond the frontier the emigrant nobles,
who might have tempered the Revolution by combining with the many liberal men of
their order who remained at home, gathered in arms, and sought the help of foreigners
against a nation in which they could see nothing but rebellious dependents of their own.
The head-quarters of the emigrants were at Coblentz in the dominions of the Elector of
Trèves. They formed themselves into regiments, numbering in all some few thousands,
and occupied themselves with extravagant schemes of vengeance against all
Frenchmen who had taken part in the destruction of the privileges of their caste.
Had the elections which followed the dissolution of the National Assembly sent to the
Legislature a body of men bent only on maintaining the advantages already won, it
would have been no easy task to preserve the peace of France in the presence of the
secret or open hostility of the Court, the Church, and the emigrants. But the trial was
not made. The leading spirits among the new representatives were not men of
compromise. In the Legislative Body which met in 1791 there were all the passions of
the Assembly of 1789, without any of the experience which that Assembly had gained.
A decree, memorable among the achievements of political folly, had prohibited
members of the late Chamber from seeking re-election. The new Legislature was
composed of men whose political creed had been drawn almost wholly from literary
sources; the most dangerous theorists of the former Assembly were released from
Parliamentary restraints, and installed, like Robespierre, as the orators of the clubs.
Within the Chamber itself the defenders of the Monarchy and of the Constitution which
had just been given to France were far outmatched by the party of advance. The most
conspicuous of the new deputies formed the group named after the district of the
Gironde, where several of their leaders had been elected. The orator Vergniaud,
pre-eminent among companions of singular eloquence, the philosopher Condorcet, the
veteran journalist Brissot, gave to this party an ascendancy in the Chamber and an
influence in the country the more dangerous because it appeared to belong to men
elevated above the ordinary regions of political strife. Without the fixed design of
turning the monarchy into a republic, the orators of the Gironde sought to carry the
revolutionary movement over the barrier erected against it in the Constitution of 1791.
From the moment of the opening of the Assembly it was clear that the Girondins
intended to precipitate the conflict between the Court and the nation by devoting all the
wealth of their eloquence to the subjects which divided France the most. To Brissot and
the men who furnished the ideas of the party, it would have seemed a calamity that the
Constitution of 1791, with its respect for the prerogative of the Crown and its tolerance
of mediæval superstition, should fairly get underway. In spite of Robespierre's
prediction that war would give France a strong sovereign in the place of a weak one,
the Girondins persuaded themselves that the best means of diminishing or
overthrowing monarchical power in France was a war with the sovereigns of Europe;
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and henceforward they laboured for war with scarcely any disguise. [5]
Nor were occasions wanting, if war was needful for France. The protection which the
Elector of Trèves gave to the emigrant army at Coblentz was so flagrant a violation of
international law that the Gironde had the support of the whole nation when they called
upon the King to demand the dispersal of the emigrants in the most peremptory form.
National feeling was keenly excited by debates in which the military preparations of
the emigrants and the encouragement given to them by foreign princes were denounced
with all the energy of southern eloquence. On the 13th of December Louis declared to
the Electors of Trèves and Mainz that he would treat them as enemies unless the
armaments within their territories were dispersed by January 15th; and at the same time
he called upon the Emperor Leopold, as head of the Germanic body, to use his
influence in bringing the Electors to reason. The demands of France were not resisted.
On the 16th January, 1792, Louis informed the Assembly that the emigrants had been
expelled from the electorates, and acknowledged the good offices of Leopold in
effecting this result. The substantial cause of war seemed to have disappeared; but
another had arisen in its place. In a note of December 21st the Austrian Minister
Kaunitz used expressions which implied that a league of the Powers was still in
existence against France. Nothing could have come more opportunely for the war-party
in the Assembly. Brissot cried for an immediate declaration of war, and appealed to the
French nation to vindicate its honour by an attack both upon the emigrants and upon
their imperial protector. The issue depended upon the relative power of the Crown and
the Opposition. Leopold saw that war was inevitable unless the Constitutional party,
which was still in office, rallied for one last effort, and gained a decisive victory over
its antagonists. In the hope of turning public opinion against the Gironde, he permitted
Kaunitz to send a despatch to Paris which loaded the leaders of the war-party with
abuse, and exhorted the French nation to deliver itself from men who would bring upon
it the hostility of Europe. (Feb. 17.) [6] The despatch gave singular proof of the
inability of the cleverest sovereign and the most experienced minister of the age to
distinguish between the fears of a timid cabinet and the impulses of an excited nation.
Leopold's vituperations might have had the intended effect if they had been addressed
to the Margrave of Baden or the Doge of Venice; addressed to the French nation and its
popular Assembly in the height of civil conflict, they were as oil poured upon the
flames. Leopold ruined the party which he meant to reinforce; he threw the nation into
the arms of those whom he attacked. His despatch was received in the Assembly with
alternate murmurs and bursts of laughter; in the clubs it excited a wild outburst of rage.
The exchange of diplomatic notes continued for a few weeks more; but the real answer
of France to Austria was the "Marseillaise," composed at Strasburg almost
simultaneously with Kaunitz' attack upon the Jacobins. The sudden death of the
Emperor on March 1st produced no pause in the controversy. Delessart, the Foreign
Minister of Louis, was thrust from office, and replaced by Dumouriez, the
representative of the war-party.
Expostulation took a sharper tone; old subjects of complaint were revived; and the
armies on each side were already pressing towards the frontier when the unhappy Louis
was brought down to the Assembly by his Ministers, and compelled to propose the
declaration of war.
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[Expectation of foreign attack real among the French people; not real among the French
politicians.]
It is seldom that the professed grounds correspond with the real motives of a war; nor
was this the case in 1792. The ultimatum of the Austrian Government demanded that
compensation should be made to certain German nobles whose feudal rights over their
peasantry had been abolished in Alsace; that the Pope should be indemnified for
Avignon and the Venaissin, which had been taken from him by France; and that a
Government should be established at Paris capable of affording the Powers of Europe
security against the spread of democratic agitation. No one supposed the first two
grievances to be a serious ground for hostilities. The rights of the German nobles in
Alsace over their villagers were no doubt protected by the treaties which ceded those
districts to France; but every politician in Europe would have laughed at a Government
which allowed the feudal system to survive in a corner of its dominions out of respect
for a settlement a century and a half old: nor had the Assembly refused to these foreign
seigneurs a compensation claimed in vain by King Louis for the nobles of France. As
to the annexation of Avignon and the Venaissin, a power which, like Austria, had
joined in dismembering Poland, and had just made an unsuccessful attempt to
dismember Turkey, could not gravely reproach France for incorporating a district
which lay actually within it, and whose inhabitants, or a great portion of them, were
anxious to become citizens of France. The third demand, the establishment of such a
government as Austria should deem satisfactory, was one which no high-spirited
people could be expected to entertain. Nor was this, in fact, expected by Austria.
Leopold had no desire to attack France, but he had used threats, and would not submit
to the humiliation of renouncing them. He would not have begun a war for the purpose
of delivering the French Crown; but, when he found that he was himself certain to be
attacked, he accepted a war with the Revolution without regret. On the other side, when
the Gironde denounced the league of the Kings, they exaggerated a far-off danger for
the ends of their domestic policy. The Sovereigns of the Continent had indeed made no
secret of their hatred to the Revolution. Catherine of Russia had exhorted every Court
in Europe to make war; Gustavus of Sweden was surprised by a violent death in the
midst of preparations against France; Spain, Naples, and Sardinia were ready to follow
leaders stronger than themselves. But the statesmen of the French Assembly well
understood the interval that separates hostile feeling from actual attack; and the
unsubstantial nature of the danger to France, whether from the northern or the southern
Powers, was proved by the very fact that Austria, the hereditary enemy of France, and
the country of the hated Marie Antoinette, was treated as the main enemy.
Nevertheless, the Courts had done enough to excite the anger of millions of French
people who knew of their menaces, and not of their hesitations and reserves. The man
who composed the "Marseillaise" was no maker of cunningly-devised fables; the
crowds who first sang it never doubted the reality of the dangers which the orators of
the Assembly denounced. The Courts of Europe had heaped up the fuel; the Girondins
applied the torch. The mass of the French nation had little means of appreciating what
passed in Europe; they took their facts from their leaders, who considered it no very
serious thing to plunge a nation into war for the furtherance of internal liberty. Events
were soon to pass their own stern and mocking sentence upon the wisdom of the
Girondin statesmanship.
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[State of Germany.]
After voting the Declaration of War the French Assembly accepted a manifesto, drawn
up by Condorcet, renouncing in the name of the French people all intention of
conquest. The manifesto expressed what was sincerely felt by men like Condorcet, to
whom the Revolution was still too sacred a cause to be stained with the vulgar lust of
aggrandisement. But the actual course of the war was determined less by the intentions
with which the French began it than by the political condition of the States which
bordered upon the French frontier. The war was primarily a war with Austria, but the
Sovereign of Austria was also the head of Germany. The German Ecclesiastical Princes
who ruled in the Rhenish provinces had been the most zealous protectors of the
emigrants; it was impossible that they should now find shelter in neutrality. Prussia had
made an alliance with the Emperor against France; other German States followed in the
wake of one or other of the great Powers. If France proved stronger than its enemy,
there were governments besides that of Austria which would have to take their account
with the Revolution. Nor indeed was Austria the power most exposed to violent
change. The mass of its territory lay far from France; at the most, it risked the loss of
Lombardy and the Netherlands. Germany at large was the real area threatened by the
war, and never was a political community less fitted to resist attack than Germany at
the end of the eighteenth century. It was in the divisions of the German people, and in
the rivalries of the two leading German governments, that France found its surest
support throughout the Revolutionary war, and its keenest stimulus to conquest. It will
throw light upon the sudden changes that now began to break over Europe if we pause
to make a brief survey of the state of Germany at the outbreak of the war, to note the
character and policy of its reigning sovereigns, and to cast a glance over the
circumstances which had brought the central district of Europe into its actual condition.
Germany at large still preserved the mediæval name and forms of the Holy Roman
Empire. The members of this so-called Empire were, however, a multitude of
independent States; and the chief of these States, Austria, combined with its German
provinces a large territory which did not even in name form part of the Germanic body.
The motley of the Empire was made up by governments of every degree of strength
and weakness. Austria and Prussia possessed both political traditions and resources
raising them to the rank of great European Powers; but the sovereignties of the second
order, such as Saxony and Bavaria, had neither the security of strength nor the free
energy often seen in small political communities; whilst in the remaining petty States
of Germany, some hundreds in number, all public life had long passed out of mind in a
drowsy routine of official benevolence or oppression. In theory there still existed a
united Germanic body; in reality Germany was composed of two great monarchies in
embittered rivalry with one another, and of a multitude of independent principalities
and cities whose membership in the Empire involved little beyond a liability to be
dragged into the quarrels of their more powerful neighbours. A German national
feeling did not exist, because no combination existed uniting the interests of all
Germany. The names and forms of political union had come down from a remote past,
and formed a grotesque anachronism amid the realities of the eighteenth century. The
head of the Germanic body held office not by hereditary right, but as the elected
successor of Charlemagne and the Roman Cæsars. Since the fifteenth century the
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imperial dignity had rested with the Austrian House of Hapsburg; but, with the
exception of Charles V., no sovereign of that House had commanded forces adequate to
the creation of a united German state, and the opportunity which then offered itself was
allowed to pass away. The Reformation severed Northern Germany from the Catholic
monarchy of the south. The Thirty Years' War, terminating in the middle of the
seventeenth century, secured the existence of Protestantism on the Continent of Europe,
but it secured it at the cost of Germany, which was left exhausted and disintegrated. By
the Treaty of Westphalia, A.D. 1648, the independence of every member of the Empire
was recognised, and the central authority was henceforth a mere shadow. The Diet of
the Empire, where the representatives of the Electors, of the Princes, and of the Free
Cities, met in the order of the Middle Ages, sank into a Heralds' College, occupied with
questions of title and precedence; affairs of real importance were transacted by envoys
from Court to Court. For purposes of war the Empire was divided into Circles, each
Circle supplying in theory a contingent of troops; but this military organisation existed
only in letter. The greater and the intermediate States regulated their armaments, as
they did their policy, without regard to the Diet of Ratisbon; the contingents of the
smaller sovereignties and free cities were in every degree of inefficiency, corruption,
and disorder; and in spite of the courage of the German soldier, it could make little
difference in a European war whether a regiment which had its captain appointed by
the city of Gmünd, its lieutenant by the Abbess of Rotenmünster, and its ensign by the
Abbot of Gegenbach, did or did not take the field with numbers fifty per cent. below its
statutory contingent.[7] How loose was the connection subsisting between the members
of the Empire, how slow and cumbrous its constitutional machinery, was strikingly
proved after the first inroads of the French into Germany in 1792, when the Diet
deliberated for four weeks before calling out the forces of the Empire, and for five
months before declaring war.
[Austria.]
The defence of Germany rested in fact with the armies of Austria and Prussia. The
Austrian House of Hapsburg held the imperial title, and gathered around it the
sovereigns of the less progressive German States. While the Protestant communities of
Northern Germany identified their interests with those of the rising Prussian Monarchy,
religious sympathy and the tradition of ages attached the minor Catholic Courts to the
political system of Vienna. Austria gained something by its patronage; it was, however,
no real member of the German family. Its interests were not the interests of Germany;
its power, great and enduring as it proved, was not based mainly upon German
elements, nor used mainly for German ends. The title of the Austrian monarch gave the
best idea of the singular variety of races and nationalities which owed their political
union only to their submission to a common head. In the shorter form of state the
reigning Hapsburg was described as King of Hungary, Bohemia, Croatia, Slavonia, and
Galicia; Archduke of Austria; Grand Duke of Transylvania; Duke of Styria, Carinthia,
and Carniola; and Princely Count of Hapsburg and Tyrol. At the outbreak of the war of
1792 the dominions of the House of Austria included the Southern Netherlands and the
Duchy of Milan, in addition to the great bulk of the territory which it still governs.
Eleven distinct languages were spoken in the Austrian monarchy, with countless
varieties of dialects. Of the elements of the population the Slavic was far the largest,
numbering about ten millions, against five million Germans and three million Magyars;
but neither numerical strength nor national objects of desire coloured the policy of a
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family which looked indifferently upon all its subject races as instruments for its own
aggrandisement. Milan and the Netherlands had come into the possession of Austria
since the beginning of the eighteenth century, but the destiny of the old dominions of
the Hapsburg House had been fixed for many generations in the course of the Thirty
Years' War. In that struggle, as it affected Austria, the conflict of the ancient and the
reformed faith had become a conflict between the Monarchy, allied with the Church,
and every element of national life and independence, allied with the Reformation.
Protestantism, then dominant in almost all the Hapsburg territories, was not put down
without extinguishing the political liberties of Austrian Germany, the national life of
Bohemia, the spirit and ambition of the Hungarian nobles. The detestable desire of the
Emperor Ferdinand, "Rather a desert than a country full of heretics," was only too well
fulfilled in the subsequent history of his dominions. In the German provinces, except
the Tyrol, the old Parliaments, and with them all trace of liberty, disappeared; in
Bohemia the national Protestant nobility lost their estates, or retained them only at the
price of abandoning the religion, the language, and the feelings of their race, until the
country of Huss passed out of the sight of civilised Europe, and Bohemia represented
no more than a blank, unnoticed mass of tillers of the soil. In Hungary, where the
nation was not so completely crushed in the Thirty Years' War, and Protestantism
survived, the wholesale executions in 1686, ordered by the Tribunal known as the
"Slaughter-house of Eperies," illustrated the traditional policy of the Monarchy towards
the spirit of national independence. Two powers alone were allowed to subsist in the
Austrian dominions, the power of the Crown and the power of the Priesthood; and,
inasmuch as no real national unity could exist among the subject races, the unity of a
blind devotion to the Catholic Church was enforced over the greater part of the
Monarchy by all the authority of the State.
Under the pressure of this soulless despotism the mind of man seemed to lose all its
finer powers. The seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, in which no decade passed in
England and France without the production of some literary masterpiece, some
scientific discovery, or some advance in political reasoning, are marked by no single
illustrious Austrian name, except that of Haydn the musician. When, after three
generations of torpor succeeding the Thirty Years' War, the mind of North Germany
awoke again in Winckelmann and Lessing, and a widely-diffused education gave to the
middle class some compensation for the absence of all political freedom, no trace of
this revival appeared in Austria. The noble hunted and slept; the serf toiled heavily on;
where a school existed, the Jesuit taught his schoolboys ecclesiastical Latin, and sent
them away unable to read their mother-tongue. To this dull and impenetrable society
the beginnings of improvement could only be brought by military disaster. The loss of
Silesia in the first years of Maria Theresa disturbed the slumbers of the Government,
and reform began. Although the old provincial Assemblies, except in Hungary and the
Netherlands, had long lost all real power, the Crown had never attempted to create a
uniform system of administration: the collection of taxes, the enlistment of recruits,
was still the business of the feudal landowners of each district. How such an antiquated
order was likely to fare in the presence of an energetic enemy was clearly enough
shown in the first attack made upon Austria by Frederick the Great. As the basis of a
better military organisation, and in the hope of arousing a stronger national interest
among her subjects, Theresa introduced some of the offices of a centralised monarchy,
at the same time that she improved the condition of the serf, and substituted a German
education and German schoolmasters for those of the Jesuits. The peasant, hitherto in
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many parts of the monarchy attached to the soil, was now made free to quit his lord's
land, and was secured from ejectment so long as he fulfilled his duty of labouring for
the lord on a fixed number of days in the year. Beyond this Theresa's reform did not
extend. She had no desire to abolish the feudal character of country life; she neither
wished to temper the sway of Catholicism, nor to extinguish those provincial forms
which gave to the nobles within their own districts a shadow of political independence.
Herself conservative in feeling, attached to aristocracy, and personally devout, Theresa
consented only to such change as was recommended by her trusted counsellors, and
asked no more than she was able to obtain by the charm of her own queenly character.
With the accession of her son Joseph II. in 1780 a new era began for Austria. The work
deferred by Theresa was then taken up by a monarch whose conceptions of social and
religious reform left little for the boldest innovators of France ten years later to add.
There is no doubt that the creation of a great military force for enterprises of foreign
conquest was an end always present in Joseph's mind, and that the thirst for
uncontrolled despotic power never left him; but by the side of these coarser elements
there was in Joseph's nature something of the true fire of the man who lives for ideas.
Passionately desirous of elevating every class of his subjects at the same time that he
ignored all their habits and wishes, Joseph attempted to transform the motley and
priest-ridden collection of nations over whom he ruled into a single homogeneous
body, organised after the model of France and Prussia, worshipping in the spirit of a
tolerant and enlightened Christianity, animated in its relations of class to class by the
humane philosophy of the eighteenth century. In the first year of his reign Joseph
abolished every jurisdiction that did not directly emanate from the Crown, and
scattered an army of officials from Ostend to the Dniester to conduct the entire public
business of his dominions under the immediate direction of the central authority at
Vienna. In succeeding years edict followed edict, dissolving monasteries, forbidding
Church festivals and pilgrimages, securing the protection of the State to every form of
Christian worship, abolishing the exemption from land-tax and the monopoly of public
offices enjoyed by the nobility, transforming the Universities from dens of monkish
ignorance into schools of secular learning, converting the peasant's personal service
into a rent-charge, and giving him in the officer of the Crown a protector and an arbiter
in all his dealings with his lord. Noble and enlightened in his aims, Joseph, like every
other reformer of the eighteenth century, underrated the force which the past exerts
over the present; he could see nothing but prejudice and unreason in the attachment to
provincial custom or time-honoured opinion; he knew nothing of that moral law which
limits the success of revolutions by the conditions which precede them. What was
worst united with what was best in resistance to his reforms. The bigots of the
University of Louvain, who still held out against the discoveries of Newton, excited the
mob to insurrection against Joseph, as the enemy of religion; the Magyar landowners in
Hungary resisted a system which extinguished the last vestiges of their national
independence at the same time that it destroyed the harsh dominion which they
themselves exercised over their peasantry. Joseph alternated between concession and
the extreme of autocratic violence. At one moment he resolved to sweep away every
local right that fettered the exercise of his power; then, after throwing the Netherlands
into successful revolt, and forcing Hungary to the verge of armed resistance, he
revoked his unconstitutional ordinances (January 28, 1790), and restored all the
institutions of the Hungarian monarchy which existed at the date of his accession.
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[Leopold II., 1790-1792.]
A month later, death removed Joseph from his struggle and his sorrows. His successor,
Leopold II., found the monarchy involved as Russia's ally in an attack upon Turkey;
threatened by the Northern League of Prussia, England, and Holland; exhausted in
finance; weakened by the revolt of the Netherlands; and distracted in every province by
the conflict of the ancient and the modern system of government, and the assertion of
new social rights that seemed to have been created only in order to be extinguished.
The recovery of Belgium and the conclusion of peace with Turkey were effected under
circumstances that brought the adroit and guarded statesmanship of Leopold into just
credit. His settlement of the conflict between the Crown and the Provinces, between the
Church and education, between the noble and the serf, marked the line in which, for
better or for worse, Austrian policy was to run for sixty years. Provincial rights, the
privileges of orders and corporate bodies, Leopold restored; the personal sovereignty of
his house he maintained unimpaired. In the more liberal part of Joseph's legislation, the
emancipation of learning from clerical control, the suppression of unjust privilege in
taxation, the abolition of the feudal services of the peasant, Leopold was willing to
make concessions to the Church and the aristocracy; to the spirit of national
independence which his predecessor's aggression had excited in Bohemia as well as in
Hungary, he made no concession beyond the restoration of certain cherished forms. An
attempt of the Magyar nobles to affix conditions to their acknowledgment of Leopold
as King of Hungary was defeated; and, by creating new offices at Vienna for the affairs
of Illyria and Transylvania, and making them independent of the Hungarian Diet,
Leopold showed that the Crown possessed an instrument against the dominant Magyar
race in the Slavic and Romanic elements of the Hungarian Kingdom. [8] On the other
hand, Leopold consented to restore to the Church its control over the higher education,
and to throw back the burden of taxation upon land not occupied by noble owners. He
gave new rigour to the censorship of the press; but the gain was not to the Church, to
which the censorship had formerly belonged, but to the Government, which now
employed it as an instrument of State. In the great question of the emancipation of the
serf Leopold was confronted by a more resolute and powerful body of nobility in
Hungary than existed in any other province. The right of the lord to fetter the peasant to
the soil and to control his marriage Leopold refused to restore in any part of his
dominions; but, while in parts of Bohemia he succeeded in maintaining the right given
by Joseph to the peasant to commute his personal service for a money payment, in
Hungary he was compelled to fall back upon the system of Theresa, and to leave the
final settlement of the question to the Diet. Twenty years later the statesman who
emancipated the peasants of Prussia observed that Hungary was the only part of the
Austrian dominions in which the peasant was not in a better condition than his fellows
in North Germany; [9] and so torpid was the humanity of the Diet that until the year
1835 the prison and the flogging-board continued to form a part of every Hungarian
manor.
Of the self-sacrificing ardour of Joseph there was no trace in Leopold's character; yet
his political aims were not low. During twenty-four years' government of Tuscany he
had proved himself almost an ideal ruler in the pursuit of peace, of religious
enlightenment, and of the material improvement of his little sovereignty. Raised to the
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Austrian throne, the compromise which he effected with the Church and the aristocracy
resulted more from a supposed political necessity than from his own inclination. So
long as Leopold lived, Austria would not have wanted an intelligence capable of
surveying the entire field of public business, nor a will capable of imposing unity of
action upon the servants of State. To the misfortune of Europe no less than of his own
dominions, Leopold was carried off by sickness at the moment when the Revolutionary
War broke out. An uneasy reaction against Joseph's reforms and a well-grounded dread
of the national movements in Hungary and the Netherlands were already the principal
forces in the official world at Vienna; in addition to these came the new terror of the
armed proselytism of the Revolution. The successor of Leopold, Francis II., was a
sickly prince, in whose homely and unimaginative mind the great enterprises of Joseph,
amidst which he had been brought up, excited only aversion. Amongst the men who
surrounded him, routine and the dread of change made an end of the higher forms of
public life. The Government openly declared that all change should cease so long as the
war lasted; even the pressing question of the peasant's relation to his lord was allowed
to remain unsettled by the Hungarian Diet, lest the spirit of national independence
should find expression in its debates. Over the whole internal administration of Austria
the torpor of the days before Theresa seemed to be returning. Its foreign policy,
however, bore no trace of this timorous, conservative spirit. Joseph, as restless abroad
as at home, had shared the ambition of the Russian Empress Catherine, and troubled
Europe with his designs upon Turkey, Venice, and Bavaria. These and similar schemes
of territorial extension continued to fill the minds of Austrian courtiers and
ambassadors. Shortly after the outbreak of war with France the aged minister Kaunitz,
who had been at the head of the Foreign Office during three reigns, retired from power.
In spite of the first partition of Poland, made in combination with Russia and Prussia in
1772, and in spite of subsequent attempts of Joseph against Turkey and Bavaria, the
policy of Kaunitz had not been one of mere adventure and shifting attack. He had on
the whole remained true to the principle of alliance with France and antagonism to
Prussia; and when the revolution brought war within sight, he desired to limit the object
of the war to the restoration of monarchical government in France. The conditions
under which the young Emperor and the King of Prussia agreed to turn the war to
purposes of territorial aggrandisement caused Kaunitz, with a true sense of the fatal
import of this policy, to surrender the power which he had held for forty years. It was
secretly agreed between the two courts that Prussia should recoup itself for its expenses
against France by seizing part of Poland. On behalf of Austria it was demanded that the
Emperor should annex Bavaria, giving Belgium to the Elector as compensation. Both
these schemes violated what Kaunitz held to be sound policy. He believed that the
interests of Austria required the consolidation rather than the destruction of Poland; and
he declared the exchange of the Netherlands for Bavaria to be, in the actual state of
affairs, impracticable. [10] Had the coalition of 1792 been framed on the principles
advocated by Kaunitz, though Austria might not have effected the restoration of
monarchial power in France, the alliance would not have disgracefully shattered on the
crimes and infamies attending the second partition of Poland.
From the moment when Kaunitz retired from office, territorial extension became the
great object of the Austrian Court. To prudent statesmen the scattered provinces and
varied population of the Austrian State would have suggested that Austria had more to
lose than any European Power; to the men of 1792 it appeared that she had more to
gain. The Netherlands might be increased with a strip of French Flanders; Bavaria,
Poland, and Italy were all weak neighbours, who might be made to enrich Austria in
their turn. A sort of magical virtue was attached to the acquisition of territory. If so
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many square miles and so many head of population were gained, whether of alien or
kindred race, mutinous or friendly, the end of all statesmanship was realised, and the
heaviest sacrifice of life and industry repaid. Austria affected to act as the centre of a
defensive alliance, and to fight for the common purpose of giving a Government to
France which would respect the rights of its neighbours. In reality, its own military
operations were too often controlled, and an effective common warfare frustrated, at
one moment by a design upon French Flanders, at another by the course of Polish or
Bavarian intrigue, at another by the hope of conquests in Italy. Of all the interests
which centred in the head of the House of Hapsburg, the least befriended at Vienna was
the interest of the Empire and of Germany.
[Prussia.]
Nor, if Austria was found wanting, had Germany any permanent safeguard in the rival
Protestant State. Prussia, the second great German Power and the ancient enemy of
Austria, had been raised to an influence in Europe quite out of proportion to its scanty
resources by the genius of Frederick the Great and the earlier Princes of the House of
Hohenzollern. Its population was not one-third of that of France or Austria; its wealth
was perhaps not superior to that of the Republic of Venice. That a State so poor in men
and money should play the part of one of the great Powers of Europe was possible only
so long as an energetic ruler watched every movement of that complicated machinery
which formed both army and nation after the prince's own type. Frederick gave his
subjects a just administration of the law; he taught them productive industries; he
sought to bring education to their doors [11]; but he required that the citizen should
account himself before all the servant of the State. Every Prussian either worked in the
great official hierarchy or looked up to it as the providence which was to direct all his
actions and supply all his judgments. The burden of taxation imposed by the support of
an army relatively three times as great as that of any other Power was wonderfully
lightened by Frederick's economy: far more serious than the tobacco-monopoly and the
forage-requisitions, at which Frederick's subjects grumbled during his life-time, was
the danger that a nation which had only attained political greatness by its obedience to
a rigorous administration should fall into political helplessness, when the clear purpose
and all-controlling care of its ruler no longer animated a system which, without him,
was only a pedantic routine. What in England we are accustomed to consider as the
very substance of national life,-the mass of political interest and opinion, diffused in
some degree amongst all classes, at once the support and the judge of the servants of
the State,-had in Prussia no existence. Frederick's subjects obeyed and trusted their
Monarch; there were probably not five hundred persons outside the public service who
had any political opinions of their own. Prussia did not possess even the form of a
national representation; and, although certain provincial assemblies continued to meet,
they met only to receive the instructions of the Crown-officers of their district. In the
absence of all public criticism, the old age of Frederick must in itself have endangered
the efficiency of the military system which had raised Prussia to its sudden
eminence.[12] The impulse of Frederick's successor was sufficient to reverse the whole
system of Prussian foreign policy, and to plunge the country in alliance with Austria
into a speculative and unnecessary war.
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On the death of Frederick in 1786, the crown passed to Frederick William II., his
nephew. Frederick William was a man of common type, showy and pleasure-loving,
interested in public affairs, but incapable of acting on any fixed principle. His
mistresses gave the tone to political society. A knot of courtiers intrigued against one
another for the management of the King; and the policy of Prussia veered from point to
point as one unsteady impulse gave place to another. In countries less dependent than
Prussia upon the personal activity of the monarch, Frederick William's faults might
have been neutralised by able Ministers; in Prussia the weakness of the King was the
decline of the State. The whole fabric of national greatness had been built up by the
royal power; the quality of the public service, apart from which the nation was
politically non-existent, was the quality of its head. When in the palace profusion and
intrigue took the place of Frederick the Great's unflagging labour, the old uprightness,
industry, and precision which had been the pride of Prussian administration fell out of
fashion everywhere. Yet the frivolity of the Court was a less active cause of military
decline than the abandonment of the first principles of Prussian policy. [13] If any
political sentiment existed in the nation, it was the sentiment of antagonism to Austria.
The patriotism of the army, with all the traditions of the great King, turned wholly in
this direction. When, out of sympathy with the Bourbon family and the emigrant
French nobles, Frederick William allied himself with Austria (Feb. 1792), and threw
himself into the arms of his ancient enemy in order to attack a nation which had not
wronged him, he made an end of all zealous obedience amongst his servants.
Brunswick, the Prussian Commander-in-Chief, hated the French emigrants as much as
he did the Revolution; and even the generals who did not originally share Brunswick's
dislike to the war recovered their old jealousy of Austria after the first defeat, and
exerted themselves only to get quit of the war at the first moment that Prussia could
retire from it without disgrace. The very enterprise in which Austria had consented that
the Court of Berlin should seek its reward-the seizure of a part of Poland-proved fatal
to the coalition. The Empress Catherine was already laying her hand for the second
time upon this unfortunate country. It was easy for the opponents of the Austrian
alliance who surrounded King Frederick William to contrast the barren effort of a war
against France with the cheap and certain advantages to be won by annexation, in
concert with Russia, of Polish territory. To pursue one of these objects with vigour it
was necessary to relinquish the other. Prussia was not rich enough to maintain armies
both on the Vistula and the Rhine. Nor, in the opinion of its rulers, was it rich enough
to be very tender of its honour or very loyal towards its allies. [14]
In the institutions of Prussia two opposite systems existed side by side, exhibiting in the
strongest form a contrast which in a less degree was present in most Continental States.
The political independence of the nobility had long been crushed; the King's
Government busied itself with every detail of town and village administration; yet
along with this rigorous development of the modern doctrine of the unity and the
authority of the State there existed a social order more truly archaic than that of the
Middle Ages at their better epochs. The inhabitants of Prussia were divided into the
three classes of nobles, burghers, and peasants, each confined to its own stated
occupations, and not marrying outside its own order. The soil of the country bore the
same distinction; peasant's land could not be owned by a burgher; burgher's land could
not be owned by a noble. No occupation was lawful for the noble, who was usually no
more than a poor gentleman, but the service of the Crown; the peasant, even where
free, might not practise the handicraft of a burgher. But the mass of the peasantry in the
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country east of the Elbe were serfs attached to the soil; and the noble, who was not
permitted to exercise the slightest influence upon the government of his country,
inherited along with his manor a jurisdiction and police-control over all who were
settled within it. Frederick had allowed serfage to continue because it gave him in each
manorial lord a task-master whom he could employ in his own service. System and
obedience were the sources of his power; and if there existed among his subjects one
class trained to command and another trained to obey, it was so much the easier for him
to force the country into the habits of industry which he required of it. In the same
spirit, Frederick officered his army only with men of the noble caste. They brought
with them the habit of command ready-formed; the peasants who ploughed and
threshed at their orders were not likely to disobey them in the presence of the enemy. It
was possible that such a system should produce great results so long as Frederick was
there to guard against its abuses; Frederick gone, the degradation of servitude, the
insolence of caste, was what remained. When the army of France, led by men who had
worked with their fathers in the fields, hunted a King of Prussia amidst his capitulating
grandees from the centre to the verge of his dominions, it was seen what was the
permanent value of a system which recognised in the nature of the poor no capacity but
one for hereditary subjection. The French peasant, plundered as he was by the State,
and vexed as he was with feudal services, knew no such bondage as that of the Prussian
serf, who might not leave the spot where he was born; only in scattered districts in the
border-provinces had serfage survived in France. It is significant of the difference in
self-respect existing in the peasantry of the two countries that the custom of striking the
common soldier, universal in Germany, was in France no more than an abuse, practised
by the admirers of Frederick, and condemned by the better officers themselves.
[Ecclesiastical States.]
In all the secondary States of Germany the government was an absolute monarchy;
though, here and there, as in Würtemberg, the shadow of the old Assembly of the
Estates survived; and in Hanover the absence of the Elector, King George III., placed
power in the hands of a group of nobles who ruled in his name. Society everywhere
rested on a sharp division of classes similar in kind to that of Prussia; the condition of
the peasant ranging from one of serfage, as it existed in Mecklenburg,[15] to one of
comparative freedom and comfort in parts of the southern and western States. The
sovereigns differed widely in the enlightenment or selfishness of their rule; but, on the
whole, the character of government had changed for the better of late years; and,
especially in the Protestant States, efforts to improve the condition of the people were
not wanting. Frederick the Great had in fact created a new standard of monarchy in
Germany. Forty years earlier, Versailles, with its unfeeling splendours, its glorification
of the personal indulgence of the monarch, had been the ideal which, with a due sense
of their own inferiority, the German princes had done their best to imitate. To be a
sovereign was to cover acres of ground with state apartments, to lavish the revenues of
the country upon a troop of mistresses and adventurers, to patronise the arts, to collect
with the same complacency the masterpieces of ancient painting that adorn the Dresden
Gallery, or an array of valuables scarcely more interesting than the chests of treasure
that were paid for them. In the ecclesiastical States, headed by the Electorates of
Mainz, Trèves, and Cologne, the affectations of a distinctive Christian or spiritual
character had long been abandoned. The prince-bishop and canons, who were nobles
appointed from some other province, lived after the gay fashion of the time, at the
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expense of a land in which they had no interest extending beyond their own lifetime.
The only feature distinguishing the ecclesiastical residence from that of one of the
minor secular princes was that the parade of state was performed by monks in the
cathedral instead of by soldiers on the drill-ground, and that even the pretence of
married life was wanting among the flaunting harpies who frequented a celibate Court.
Yet even on the Rhine and on the Moselle the influence of the great King of Prussia
had begun to make itself felt. The intense and penetrating industry of Frederick was not
within the reach of every petty sovereign who might envy its results; but the better
spirit of the time was seen under some of the ecclesiastical princes in the
encouragement of schools, the improvement of the roads, and a retrenchment in courtly
expenditure. That deeply-seated moral disease which resulted from centuries of priestly
rule was not to be so lightly shaken off. In a district where Nature most bountifully
rewards the industry of man, twenty-four out of every hundred of the population were
monks, nuns, or beggars. [16]
Two hundred petty principalities, amongst which Weimar, the home of Goethe, stood
out in the brightest relief from the level of princely routine and self-indulgence; fifty
imperial cities, in most of which the once vigorous organism of civic life had shrivelled
to the type of the English rotten borough, did not exhaust the divisions of Germany.
Several hundred Knights of the Empire, owing no allegiance except to the Emperor,
exercised, each over a domain averaging from three to four hundred inhabitants, all the
rights of sovereignty, with the exception of the right to make war and treaties. The
districts in which this order survived were scattered over the Catholic States of the
south-west of Germany, where the knights maintained their prerogatives by federations
among themselves and by the support of the Emperor, to whom they granted sums of
money. There were instances in which this union of the rights of the sovereign and the
landlord was turned to good account; but the knight's land was usually the scene of
such poverty and degradation that the traveller needed no guide to inform him when he
entered it. Its wretched tracks interrupted the great lines of communication between the
Rhine and further Germany; its hovels were the refuge of all the criminals and
vagabonds of the surrounding country; for no police existed but the bailiffs of the
knight, and the only jurisdiction was that of the lawyer whom the knight brought over
from the nearest town. Nor was the disadvantage only on the side of those who were
thus governed. The knight himself, even if he cherished some traditional reverence for
the shadow of the Empire, was in the position of a man who belongs to no real country.
If his sons desired any more active career than that of annuitants upon the family
domains, they could obtain it only by seeking employment at one or other of the greater
Courts, and by identifying themselves with the interests of a land which they entered as
strangers.
Such was in outline the condition of Germany at the moment when it was brought into
collision with the new and unknown forces of the French Revolution. A system of
small States, which in the past of Greece and Italy had produced the finest types of
energy and genius, had in Germany resulted in the extinction of all vigorous life, and in
the ascendancy of all that was stagnant, little, and corrupt. If political disorganisation,
the decay of public spirit, and the absence of a national idea, are the signs of impending
downfall, Germany was ripe for foreign conquest. The obsolete and dilapidated fabric
of the Empire had for a century past been sustained only by the European tradition of
the Balance of Power, or by the absence of serious attack from without. Austria once
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overpowered, the Empire was ready to fall to pieces by itself: and where, among the
princes or the people of Germany, were the elements that gave hope of its renovation in
any better form of national life?
CHAPTER II.
French and Austrian armies on the Flemish frontier-Prussia enters the war-Brunswick
invades France-His Proclamation-Insurrection of Aug. 10 at Paris-Massacres of
September-Character of the war-Brunswick, checked at Valmy, retreats-The War
becomes a Crusade of France-Neighbours of France-Custine enters Mainz-Dumouriez
conquers the Austrian Netherlands -Nice and Savoy annexed-Decree of the Convention
against all Governments -Execution of Louis XVI.-War with England, followed by war
with the Mediterranean States-Condition of England-English Parties, how affected by
the Revolution-The Gironde and the Mountain-Austria recovers the Netherlands-The
Allies invade France-La Vendée-Revolutionary System of 1793-Errors of the
Allies-New French Commanders and Democratic Army- Victories of Jourdan, Hoche,
and Pichegru-Prussia withdrawing from the War -Polish Affairs-Austria abandons the
Netherlands-Treaties of Basle-France in 1795-Insurrection of 13
Vendémiaire-Constitution of 1795-The Directory-Effect of the Revolution on the spirit
of Europe up to 1795.
The war between France and Austria opened in April, 1792, on the Flemish frontier.
The first encounters were discreditable to the French soldiery, who took to flight and
murdered one of their generals. The discouragement with which the nation heard of
these reverses deepened into sullen indignation against the Court, as weeks and months
passed by, and the forces lay idle on the frontier or met the enemy only in trifling
skirmishes which left both sides where they were before. If at this crisis of the
Revolution, with all the patriotism, all the bravery, all the military genius of France
burning for service, the Government conducted the war with results scarcely
distinguishable from those of a parade, the suggestion of treason on the part of the
Court was only too likely to be entertained. The internal difficulties of the country were
increasing. The Assembly had determined to banish from France the priests who
rejected the new ecclesiastical system, and the King had placed his veto upon their
decree. He had refused to permit the formation of a camp of volunteers in the
neighbourhood of Paris. He had dismissed the popular Ministry forced upon him by the
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Gironde. A tumult on the 20th of June, in which the mob forced their way into the
Tuileries, showed the nature of the attack impending upon the monarchy if Louis
continued to oppose himself to the demands of the nation; but the lesson was lost upon
the King. Louis was as little able to nerve himself for an armed conflict with the
populace as to reconcile his conscience to the Ecclesiastical Decrees, and he
surrendered himself to a pious inertia at a moment when the alarm of foreign invasion
doubled revolutionary passion all over France. Prussia, in pursuance of a treaty made in
February, united its forces to those of Austria. Forty thousand Prussian troops, under
the Duke of Brunswick, the best of Frederick's surviving generals, advanced along the
Moselle. From Belgium and the upper Rhine two Austrian armies converged upon the
line of invasion; and the emigrant nobles were given their place among the forces of the
Allies.
On the 25th of July the Duke of Brunswick, in the name of the Emperor and the King
of Prussia, issued a proclamation to the French people, which, but for the difference
between violent words and violent deeds, would have left little to be complained of in
the cruelties that henceforward stained the popular cause. In this manifesto, after
declaring that the Allies entered France in order to deliver Louis from captivity, and
that members of the National Guard fighting against the invaders would be punished as
rebels against their king, the Sovereigns addressed themselves to the city of Paris and
to the representatives of the French nation:-"The city of Paris and its inhabitants are
warned to submit without delay to their King; to set that Prince at entire liberty, and to
show to him and to all the Royal Family the inviolability and respect which the law of
nature and of nations imposes on subjects towards their Sovereigns. Their Imperial and
Royal Majesties will hold all the members of the National Assembly, of the
Municipality, and of the National Guard of Paris responsible for all events with their
heads, before military tribunals, without hope of pardon. They further declare that, if
the Tuileries be forced or insulted, or the least violence offered to the King, the Queen,
or the Royal Family, and if provision be not at once made for their safety and liberty,
they will inflict a memorable vengeance, by delivering up the city of Paris to military
execution and total overthrow, and the rebels guilty of such crimes to the punishment
they have merited." [17]
This challenge was not necessary to determine the fate of Louis. Since the capture of
the Bastille in the first days of the Revolution the National Government had with
difficulty supported itself against the populace of the capital; and, even before the
foreigner threatened Paris with fire and sword, Paris had learnt to look for the will of
France within itself. As the columns of Brunswick advanced across the north-eastern
frontier, Danton and the leaders of the city-democracy marshalled their army of the
poor and the desperate to overthrow that monarchy whose cause the invader had made
his own. The Republic which had floated so long in the thoughts of the Girondins was
won in a single day by the populace of Paris, amid the roar of cannons and the flash of
bayonets. On the 10th of August Danton let loose the armed mob upon the Tuileries.
Louis quitted the Palace without giving orders to the guard either to fight or to retire;
but the guard were ignorant that their master desired them to offer no resistance, and
one hundred and sixty of the mob were shot down before an order reached the troops to
abandon the Palace. The cruelties which followed the victory of the people indicated
the fate in store for those whom the invader came to protect. It is doubtful whether the
foreign Courts would have made any serious attempt to undo the social changes
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effected by the Revolution in France; but no one supposed that those thousands of
self-exiled nobles who now returned behind the guns of Brunswick had returned in
order to take their places peacefully in the new social order. In their own imagination,
as much as in that of the people, they returned with fire and sword to repossess
themselves of rights of which they had been despoiled, and to take vengeance upon the
men who were responsible for the changes made in France since 1789.[18] In the midst
of a panic little justified by the real military situation, Danton inflamed the nation with
his own passionate courage and resolution; he unhappily also thought it necessary to a
successful national defence that the reactionary party at Paris should be paralysed by a
terrible example. The prisons were filled with persons suspected of hostility to the
national cause, and in the first days of September many hundreds of these unfortunate
persons were massacred by gangs of assassins paid by a committee of the Municipality.
Danton did not disguise his approval of the act. He had made up his mind that the work
of the Revolution could only be saved by striking terror into its enemies, and by
preventing the Royalists from co-operating with the invader. But the multitudes who
flocked to the standards of 1792 carried with them the patriotism of Danton unstained
by his guilt. Right or wrong in its origin, the war was now unquestionably a just one on
the part of France, a war against a privileged class attempting to recover by force the
unjust advantages that they had not been able to maintain, a war against the foreigner in
defence of the right of the nation to deal with its own government. Since the great
religious wars there had been no cause so rooted in the hearts, so close to the lives of
those who fought for it. Every soldier who joined the armies of France in 1792 joined
of his own free will. No conscription dragged the peasant to the frontier. Men left their
homes in order that the fruit of the poor man's labour should be his own, in order that
the children of France should inherit some better birthright than exaction and want, in
order that the late-won sense of human right should not be swept from the earth by the
arms of privilege and caste. It was a time of high-wrought hope, of generous and
pathetic self-sacrifice; a time that left a deep and indelible impression upon those who
judged it as eye-witnesses. Years afterwards the poet Wordsworth, then alienated from
France and cold in the cause of liberty, could not recall without tears the memories of
1792. [19]
[Retreat of Brunswick.]
The defence of France rested on General Dumouriez. The fortresses of Longwy and
Verdun, covering the passage of the Meuse, had fallen after the briefest resistance; the
troops that could be collected before Brunswick's approach were too few to meet the
enemy in the open field. Happily for France the slow advance of the Prussian general
permitted Dumouriez to occupy the difficult country of the Argonne, where, while
waiting for his reinforcements, he was able for some time to hold the invaders in check.
At length Brunswick made his way past the defile which Dumouriez had chosen for his
first line of defence; but it was only to find the French posted in such strength on his
flank that any further advance would imperil his own army. If the advance was to be
continued, Dumouriez must be dislodged. Accordingly, on the 20th of September,
Brunswick directed his artillery against the hills of Valmy, where the French left was
encamped. The cannonade continued for some hours, but it was followed by no general
attack. The firmness of the French under Brunswick's fire made it clear that they would
not be displaced without an obstinate battle; and, disappointed of victory, the King of
Prussia began to listen to proposals of peace sent to him by Dumouriez. [20] A week
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spent in negotiation served only to strengthen the French and to aggravate the scarcity
and sickness within the German camp. Dissensions broke out between the Prussian and
Austrian commanders; a retreat was ordered; and to the astonishment of Europe the
veteran forces of Brunswick fell back before the mutinous soldiery and unknown
generals of the Revolution, powerless to delay for a single month the evacuation of
France and the restoration of the fortresses which they had captured.
In the meantime the Legislative Assembly had decreed its own dissolution in
consequence of the overthrow of the monarchy on August both, and had ordered the
election of representatives to frame a constitution for France. The elections were held
in the crisis of invasion, in the height of national indignation against the alliance of the
aristocracy with the foreigner, and, in some districts, under the influence of men who
had not shrunk from ordering the massacres in the prisons. At such a moment a
Constitutional Royalist had scarcely more chance of election than a detected spy from
the enemy's camp. The Girondins, who had been the party of extremes in the
Legislative Assembly, were the party of moderation and order in the Convention. By
their side there were returned men whose whole being seemed to be compounded out
of the forces of conflict, men who, sometimes without conscious depravity, carried into
political and social struggles that direct, unquestioning employment of force which has
ordinarily been reserved for war or for the diffusion of religious doctrines. The moral
differences that separated this party from the Gironde were at once conspicuous: the
political creed of the two parties appeared at first to be much the same. Monarchy was
abolished, and France declared a Republic (Sept. 21). Office continued in the hands of
the Gironde; but the vehement, uncompromising spirit of their rivals, the so-called
party of the Mountain, quickly made itself felt in all the relations of France to foreign
Powers. The intention of conquest might still be disavowed, as it had been five months
before; but were the converts to liberty to be denied the right of uniting themselves to
the French people by their own free will? When the armies of the Republic had swept
its assailants from the border-provinces that gave them entrance into France, were those
provinces to be handed back to a government of priests and nobles? The scruples which
had condemned all annexation of territory vanished in that orgy of patriotism which
followed the expulsion of the invader and the discovery that the Revolution was
already a power in other lands than France. The nation that had to fight the battle of
European freedom must appeal to the spirit of freedom wherever it would answer the
call: the conflict with sovereigns must be maintained by arming their subjects against
them in every land. In this conception of the universal alliance of the nations, the
Governments with which France was not yet at war were scarcely distinguished from
those which had pronounced against her. The frontier-lines traced by an obsolete
diplomacy, the artificial guarantees of treaties, were of little account against the living
and inalienable sovereignty of the people. To men inflamed with the passions of 1792
an argument of international law scarcely conveyed more meaning than to Peter the
Hermit. Among the statesmen of other lands, who had no intention of abandoning all
the principles recognised as the public right of Europe, the language now used by
France could only be understood as the avowal of indiscriminate aggression.
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The Revolution had displayed itself in France as a force of union as well as of division.
It had driven the nobles across the frontier; it had torn the clergy from their altars; but it
had reconciled sullen Corsica; and by abolishing feudal rights it had made France the
real fatherland of the Teutonic peasant in Alsace and Lorraine. It was now about to
prove its attractive power in foreign lands. At the close of the last century the
nationalities of Europe were far less consolidated than they are at present; only on the
Spanish and the Swiss frontier had France a neighbour that could be called a nation. On
the north, what is now the kingdom of Belgium was in 1792 a collection of provinces
subject to the House of Austria. The German population both of the districts west of the
Rhine and of those opposite to Alsace was parcelled out among a number of petty
principalities. Savoy, though west of the chain of the Alps and French in speech,
formed part of the kingdom of Piedmont, which was itself severed by history and by
national character from the other States of Northern Italy. Along the entire frontier,
from Dunkirk to the Maritime Alps, France nowhere touched a strong, united, and
independent people; and along this entire frontier, except in the country opposite
Alsace, the armed proselytism of the French Revolution proved a greater force than the
influences on which the existing order of things depended. In the Low Countries, in the
Principalities of the Rhine, in Switzerland, in Savoy, in Piedmont itself, the doctrines of
the Revolution were welcomed by a more or less numerous class, and the armies of
France appeared, though but for a moment, as the missionaries of liberty and right
rather than as an invading enemy.
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[Battle of Jemappes, Nov. 6.]
The success of Custine's raid into Germany did not divert the Convention from the
design of attacking Austria in the Netherlands, which Dumouriez had from the first
pressed upon the Government. It was not three years since the Netherlands had been in
revolt against the Emperor Joseph. In its origin the revolt was a reactionary movement
of the clerical party against Joseph's reforms; but there soon sprang up ambitions and
hopes at variance with the first impulses of the insurrection; and by the side of monks
and monopolists a national party came into existence, proclaiming the sovereignty of
the people, and imitating all the movements of the French Revolution. During the brief
suspension of Austrian rule the popular and the reactionary parties attacked one
another; and on the restoration of Leopold's authority in 1791 the democratic leaders,
with a large body of their followers, took refuge beyond the frontier, looking forward
to the outbreak of war between Austria and France. Their partisans formed a French
connection in the interior of the country; and by some strange illusion, the priests
themselves and the close corporations which had been attacked by Joseph supposed
that their interests would be respected by Revolutionary France. [22] Thus the ground
was everywhere prepared for a French invasion. Dumouriez crossed the frontier. The
border fortresses no longer existed; and after a single battle won by the French at
Jemappes on the 6th of November, [23] the Austrians, finding the population
universally hostile, abandoned the Netherlands without a struggle.
The victory of Jemappes, the first pitched battle won by the Republic, excited an
outburst of revolutionary fervour in the Convention which deeply affected the relations
of France to Great Britain, hitherto a neutral spectator of the war. A manifesto was
published declaring that the French nation offered its alliance to all peoples who
wished to recover their freedom, and charging the generals of the Republic to give their
protection to all persons who might suffer in the cause of liberty (Nov. 19). A week
later Savoy and Nice were annexed to France, the population of Savoy having declared
in favour of France and Sardinia. On the 15th of December the Convention proclaimed
that social and political revolution was henceforth to accompany every movement of its
armies on foreign soil. "In every country that shall be occupied by the armies of the
French Republic"-such was the substance of the Decree of December 15th-"the
generals shall announce the abolition of all existing authorities; of nobility, of serfage,
of every feudal right and every monopoly; they shall proclaim the sovereignty of the
people, and convoke the inhabitants in assemblies to form a provisional Government,
to which no officer of a former Government, no noble, nor any member of the former
privileged corporations shall be eligible. They shall place under the charge of the
French Republic all property belonging to the Sovereign or his adherents, and the
property of every civil or religious corporation. The French nation will treat as enemies
any people which, refusing liberty and equality, desires to preserve its prince and
privileged castes, or to make any accommodation with them."
[England arms.]
[The Schelde.]
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[Execution of Louis XVI., Jan. 21, 1793.]
This singular announcement of a new crusade caused the Government of Great Britain
to arm. Although the decree of the Convention related only to States with which France
was at war, the Convention had in fact formed connections with the English
revolutionary societies; and the French Minister of Marine informed his sailors that
they were about to carry fifty thousand caps of liberty to their English brethren. No
prudent statesman would treat a mere series of threats against all existing authorities as
ground for war; but the acts of the French Government showed that it intended to carry
into effect the violent interference in the affairs of other nations announced in its
manifestoes. Its agents were stirring up dissatisfaction in every State; and although the
annexation of Savoy and the occupation of the Netherlands might be treated as
incidental to the conflict with Austria and Sardinia, in which Great Britain had pledged
itself to neutrality, other acts of the Convention were certainly infringements of the
rights of allies of England. A series of European treaties, oppressive according to our
own ideas, but in keeping with the ideas of that age, prohibited the navigation of the
River Schelde, on which Antwerp is situated, in order that the commerce of the North
Sea might flow exclusively into Dutch ports. On the conquest of Belgium the French
Government gave orders to Dumouriez to send a flotilla down the river, and to declare
Antwerp an open port in right of the law of nature, which treaties cannot abrogate.
Whatever the folly of commercial restraints, the navigation of the Schelde was a
question between the Antwerpers and the Dutch, and one in which France had no direct
concern. The incident, though trivial, was viewed in England as one among many
proofs of the intention of the French to interfere with the affairs of neighbouring States
at their pleasure. In ordinary times it would not have been easy to excite much interest
in England on behalf of a Dutch monopoly; but the feeling of this country towards the
French Revolution had been converted into a passionate hatred by the massacres of
September, and by the open alliance between the Convention and the Revolutionary
societies in England itself. Pitt indeed, whom the Parisians imagined to be their most
malignant enemy, laboured against the swelling national passion, and hoped against all
hope for peace. Not only was Pitt guiltless of the desire to add this country to the
enemies of France, but he earnestly desired to reconcile France with Austria, in order
that the Western States, whose embroilment left Eastern Europe at the mercy of
Catherine of Russia, might unite to save both Poland and Turkey from falling into the
hands of a Power whose steady aggression threatened Europe more seriously than all
the noisy and outspoken excitement of the French Convention. Pitt, moreover, viewed
with deep disapproval the secret designs of Austria and Prussia. [24] If the French
executive would have given any assurance that the Netherlands should not be annexed,
or if the French ambassador, Chauvelin, who was connected with English plotters, had
been superseded by a trustworthy negotiator, it is probable that peace might have been
preserved. But when, on the execution of King Louis (Jan. 21, 1793), Chauvelin was
expelled from England as a suspected alien, war became a question of days. [25]
Points of technical right figured in the complaints of both sides; but the real ground of
war was perfectly understood. France considered itself entitled to advance the
Revolution and the Rights of Man wherever its own arms or popular insurrection gave
it the command. England denied the right of any Power to annul the political system of
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Europe at its pleasure. No more serious, no more sufficient, ground of war ever existed
between two nations; yet the event proved that, with the highest justification for war,
the highest wisdom would yet have chosen peace. England's entry into the war
converted it from an affair of two or three campaigns into a struggle of twenty years,
resulting in more violent convulsions, more widespread misery, and more atrocious
crimes, than in all probability would have resulted even from the temporary triumph of
the revolutionary cause in 1793. But in both nations political passion welcomed
impending calamity; and the declaration of war by the Convention on February 1st only
anticipated the desire of the English people. Great Britain once committed to the
struggle, Pitt spared neither money nor intimidation in his efforts to unite all Europe
against France. Holland was included with England in the French declaration of war.
The Mediterranean States felt that the navy of England was nearer to them than the
armies of Austria and Prussia; and before the end of the summer of 1793, Spain,
Portugal, Naples, Tuscany, and the Papal States had joined the Coalition.
The Jacobins of Paris had formed a wrong estimate of the political condition of
England. At the outbreak of the war they believed that England itself was on the verge
of revolution. They mistook the undoubted discontent of a portion of the middle and
lower classes, which showed itself in the cry for parliamentary reform, for a general
sentiment of hatred towards existing institutions, like that which in France had swept
away the old order at a single blow. The Convention received the addresses of English
Radical societies, and imagined that the abuses of the parliamentary system under
George III. had alienated the whole nation. What they had found in Belgium and in
Savoy-a people thankful to receive the Rights of Man from the soldiers of the
Revolution-they expected to find among the dissenting congregations of London and
the factory-hands of Sheffield. The singular attraction exercised by each class in
England upon the one below it, as well as the indifference of the nation generally to all
ideals, was little understood in France, although the Revolutions of the two countries
bore this contrast on their face. A month after the fall of the Bastille, the whole system
of class-privilege and monopoly had vanished from French law; fifteen years of the
English Commonwealth had left the structure of English society what it had been at the
beginning. But political observation vanished in the delirium of 1793; and the French
only discovered, when it was too late, that in Great Britain the Revolution had fallen
upon an enemy of unparalleled stubbornness and inexhaustible strength.
In the first Assembly of the Revolution it was usual to speak of the English as free men
whom the French ought to imitate; in the Convention it was usual to speak of them as
slaves whom the French ought to deliver. The institutions of England bore in fact a
very different aspect when compared with the absolute monarchy of the Bourbons and
when compared with the democracy of 1793. Frenchmen who had lived under the
government of a Court which made laws by edict and possessed the right to imprison
by letters-patent looked with respect upon the Parliament of England, its trial by jury,
and its freedom of the press. The men who had sent a king to prison and confiscated the
estates of a great part of the aristocracy could only feel compassion for a land where
three-fourths of the national representatives were nominees of the Crown or of wealthy
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peers. Nor, in spite of the personal sympathy of Fox with the French revolutionary
movement, was there any real affinity between the English Whig party and that which
now ruled in the Convention. The event which fixed the character of English liberty
during the eighteenth century, the Revolution of 1688, had nothing democratic in its
nature. That revolution was directed against a system of Roman Catholic despotism; it
gave political power not to the mass of the nation, which had no desire and no capacity
to exercise it, but to a group of noble families and their retainers, who, during the
reigns of the first two Georges, added all the patronage and influence of the Crown to
their social and constitutional weight in the country. The domestic history of England
since the accession of George III. had turned chiefly upon the obstinate struggle of this
monarch to deliver himself from all dependence upon party. The divisions of the
Whigs, their jealousies, but, above all, their real alienation from the mass of the people
whose rights they professed to defend, ultimately gave the King the victory, when, after
twenty years of errors, be found in the younger Pitt a Minister capable of uniting the
interests of the Crown with the ablest and most patriotic liberal statesmanship. Bribes,
threats, and every species of base influence had been employed by King George to
break up the great Coalition of 1783, which united all sections of the Whigs against
him under the Ministry of Fox and North; but the real support of Pitt, whom the King
placed in office with a minority in the House of Commons, was the temper of the
nation itself, wearied with the exclusiveness, the corruption, and the party-spirit of the
Whigs, and willing to believe that a popular Minister, even if he had entered upon
power unconstitutionally, might do more for the country than the constitutional
proprietors of the rotten boroughs.
From 1783 down to the outbreak of the French Revolution, Pitt, as a Tory Minister
confronted by a Whig Opposition, governed England on more liberal principles than
any statesman who had held power during the eighteenth century. These years were the
last of the party-system of England in its original form. The French Revolution made
an end of that old distinction in which the Tory was known as the upholder of
Crown-prerogative and the Whig as the supporter of a constitutional oligarchy of great
families. It created that new political antagonism in which, whether under the names of
Whig and Tory, or of Liberal and Conservative, two great parties have contended, one
for a series of beneficial changes, the other for the preservation of the existing order.
The convulsions of France and the dread of revolutionary agitation in England
transformed both Pitt and the Whigs by whom he was opposed. Pitt sacrificed his
schemes of peaceful progress to foreign war and domestic repression, and set his face
against the reform of Parliament which he had once himself proposed. The Whigs
broke up into two sections, led respectively by Burke and by Fox, the one denouncing
the violence of the Revolution, and ultimately uniting itself with Pitt; the other friendly
to the Revolution, in spite of its excesses, as the cause of civil and religious liberty, and
identifying itself, under the healthy influence of parliamentary defeat and
disappointment, with the defence of popular rights in England and the advocacy of
enlightened reform.
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The obliteration of the old dividing-line in English politics may be said to date from the
day when the ancient friendship of Burke and Fox was bitterly severed by the former in
the House of Commons (May 6, 1791). The charter of the modern Conservative party
was that appeal to the nation which Burke had already published, in the autumn of
1790, under the title of "Reflections on the French Revolution." In this survey of the
political forces which he saw in action around him, the great Whig writer, who in past
times had so passionately defended the liberties of America and the constitutional
tradition of the English Parliament against the aggression of George III., attacked the
Revolution as a system of violence and caprice more formidable to freedom than the
tyranny of any Crown. He proved that the politicians and societies of England who had
given it their sympathy had given their sympathy to measures and to theories opposed
to every principle of 1688. Above all, he laid bare that agency of riot and
destructiveness which, even within the first few months of the Revolution, filled him
with presentiment of the calamities about to fall upon France. Burke's treatise was no
dispassionate inquiry into the condition of a neighbouring state: it was a denunciation
of Jacobinism as fierce and as little qualified by political charity as were the
maledictions of the Hebrew prophets upon their idolatrous neighbours; and it was
intended, like these, to excite his own countrymen against innovations among
themselves. It completely succeeded. It expressed, and it heightened, the alarm arising
among the Liberal section of the propertied class, at first well inclined to the
Revolution; and, although the Whigs of the House of Commons pronounced in favour
of Fox upon his first rupture with Burke, the tide of public feeling, rising higher with
every new outrage of the Revolution, soon invaded the legislature, and carried the bulk
of the Whig party to the side of the Minister, leaving to Fox and his few faithful
adherents the task of maintaining an unheeded protest against the blind passions of war,
and the increasing rigour with which Pitt repressed every symptom of popular
disaffection.
The character of violence which Burke traced and condemned in the earliest acts of the
Revolution displayed itself in a much stronger light after the overthrow of the
Monarchy by the insurrection of August 10th. That event was the work of men who
commanded the Parisian democracy, not the work of orators and party-leaders in the
Assembly. The Girondins had not hesitated to treat the victory as their own, by placing
the great offices of State, with one exception, in the hands of their leaders; they
instantly found that the real sovereignty lay elsewhere. The Council of the Commune,
or Municipality, of Paris, whose members had seized their post at the moment of the
insurrection, was the only administrative body that possessed the power to enforce its
commands; in the Ministries of State one will alone made itself felt, that of Danton,
whom the Girondins had unwillingly admitted to office along with themselves. The
massacres of September threw into full light the powerlessness of the expiring
Assembly. For five successive days it was unable to check the massacres; it was unable
to bring to justice the men who had planned them, and who called upon the rest of
France to follow their example. With the meeting of the Convention, however, the
Girondins, who now regarded themselves as the legitimate government, and forgot that
they owed office to an insurrection, expected to reduce the capital to submission. They
commanded an overwhelming majority in the new chamber; they were supported by
the middle class in all the great cities of France. The party of the Mountain embraced at
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first only the deputies of Paris, and a group of determined men who admitted no
criticism on the measures which the democracy of Paris had thought necessary for the
Revolution. In the Convention they were the assailed, not the assailants. Without
waiting to secure themselves by an armed force, the orators of the Gironde attempted to
crush both the Municipality and the deputies who ruled at the Clubs. They reproached
the Municipality with the murders of September; they accused Robespierre of aiming at
the Dictatorship. It was under the pressure of these attacks that the party of the
Mountain gathered its strength within the Convention, and that the populace of Paris
transferred to the Gironde the passionate hatred which it had hitherto borne to the King
and the aristocracy. The gulf that lay between the people and those who had imagined
themselves to be its leaders burst into view. The Girondins saw with dismay that the
thousands of hungry workmen whose victory had placed them in power had fought for
something more tangible than Republican phrases from Tacitus and Plutarch. On one
side was a handful of orators and writers, steeped in the rhetoric and the commonplace
of ancient Rome, and totally strange to the real duties of government; on the other side
the populace of Paris, such as centuries of despotism, privilege, and priestcraft had
made it: sanguinary, unjust, vindictive; convulsed since the outbreak of the Revolution
with every passion that sways men in the mass; taught no conception of progress but
the overthrow of authority, and acquainted with no title to power but that which was
bestowed by itself. If the Girondins were to remain in power, they could do so only by
drawing an army from the departments, or by identifying themselves with the
multitude. They declined to take either course. Their audience was in the Assembly
alone; their support in the distant provinces. Paris, daily more violent, listened to men
of another stamp. The Municipality defied the Government; the Mountain answered the
threats and invectives of the majority in the Assembly by displays of popular menace
and tumult. In the eyes of the common people, who after so many changes of
government found themselves more famished and more destitute than ever, the Gironde
was now but the last of a succession of tyrannies; its statesmen but impostors who
stood between the people and the enjoyment of their liberty.
Among the leaders of the Mountain, Danton aimed at the creation of a central
Revolutionary Government, armed with absolute powers for the prosecution of the war;
and he attacked the Girondins only when they themselves had rejected his support.
Robespierre, himself the author of little beyond destruction, was the idol of those
whom Rousseau's writings had filled with the idea of a direct exercise of sovereignty
by the people. It was in the trial of the King that the Gironde first confessed its
submission to the democracy of Paris. The Girondins in their hearts desired to save the
King; they voted for his death with the hope of maintaining their influence in Paris, and
of clearing themselves from the charge of lukewarmness in the cause of the Revolution.
But the sacrifice was as vain as it was dishonourable. The populace and the party of the
Mountain took the act in its true character, as an acknowledgment of their own victory.
A series of measures was brought forward providing for the poorer classes at the
expense of the wealthy. The Gironde, now forced to become the defenders of property,
encountered the fatal charge of deserting the cause of the people; and from this time
nothing but successful foreign warfare could have saved their party from ruin.
Instead of success came inaction, disaster, and treason. The army of Flanders lay idle
during January and February for want of provisions and materials of war; and no
sooner had Dumouriez opened the campaign against Holland than he was recalled by
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intelligence that the Austrians had fallen upon his lieutenant, Miranda, at Maestricht,
and driven the French army before them. Dumouriez returned, in order to fight a
pitched battle before Brussels. He attacked the Austrians at Neerwinden (March 18),
and suffered a repulse inconsiderable in itself, but sufficient to demoralise an army
composed in great part of recruits and National Guards. [26] His defeat laid Flanders
open to the Austrians; but Dumouriez intended that it should inflict upon the Republic
a far heavier blow. Since the execution of the King, he had been at open enmity with
the Jacobins. He now proposed to the Austrian commander to unite with him in an
attack upon the Convention, and in re-establishing monarchy in France. The first
pledge of Dumouriez's treason was the surrender of three commissioners sent by the
Convention to his camp; the second was to have been the surrender of the fortress of
Condé. But Dumouriez had overrated his influence with the army. Plainer minds than
his own knew how to deal with a general who intrigues with the foreigner. Dumouriez's
orders were disregarded; his movements watched; and he fled to the Austrian lines
under the fire of his own soldiers. About thirty officers and eight hundred men passed
with him to the enemy.
The defeat and treason of Dumouriez brought the army of Austria over the northern
frontier. Almost at the same moment Custine was overpowered in the Palatinate; and
the conquests of the previous autumn, with the exception of Mainz, were lost as rapidly
as they had been won. Custine fell back upon the lines of Weissenburg, leaving the
defence of Mainz to a garrison of 17,000 men, which, alone among the Republican
armies, now maintained its reputation. In France itself civil war broke out. The
peasants of La Vendée, a district destitute of large towns, and scarcely touched either
by the evils which had produced the Revolution or by the hopes which animated the
rest of France, had seen with anger the expulsion of the parish priests who refused to
take the oath to the Constitution. A levy of 300,000 men, which was ordered by the
Convention in February, 1793, threw into revolt the simple Vendeans, who cared for
nothing outside their own parishes, and preferred to fight against their countrymen
rather than to quit their homes. The priests and the Royalists fanned these village
outbreaks into a religious war of the most serious character. Though poorly armed, and
accustomed to return to their homes as soon as fighting was over, the Vendean
peasantry proved themselves a formidable soldiery in the moment of attack, and cut to
pieces the half-disciplined battalions which the Government sent against them. On the
north, France was now assailed by the English as well as by the Austrians. The Allies
laid siege to Condé and Valenciennes, and drove the French army back in disorder at
Famars. Each defeat was a blow dealt to the Government of the Gironde at Paris. With
foreign and civil war adding disaster to disaster, with the general to whom the Gironde
had entrusted the defence of the Republic openly betraying it to its enemies, the fury of
the capital was easily excited against the party charged with all the misfortunes of
France. A threatening movement of the middle classes in resistance to a forced loan
precipitated the struggle. The Girondins were accused of arresting the armies of the
Republic in the midst of their conquests, of throwing the frontier open to the foreigner,
and of kindling the civil war of La Vendée. On the 31st of May a raging mob invaded
the Convention. Two days later the representatives of France were surrounded by the
armed forces of the Commune; the twenty-four leading members of the Gironde were
placed under arrest, and the victory of the Mountain was completed. [27]
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[Civil War. The Committee of Public Safety.]
The situation of France, which was serious before, now became desperate; for the
Girondins, escaping from their arrest, called the departments to arms against Paris.
Normandy, Bordeaux, Marseilles, Lyons, rose in insurrection against the tyranny of the
Mountain, and the Royalists of the south and west threw themselves into a civil war
which they hoped to turn to their own advantage. But a form of government had now
arisen in France well fitted to cope with extraordinary perils. It was a form of
government in which there was little trace of the constitutional tendencies of 1789, one
that had come into being as the stress of conflict threw into the background the earlier
hopes and efforts of the Revolution. In the two earlier Assemblies it had been a fixed
principle that the representatives of the people were to control the Government, but
were not to assume executive powers themselves. After the overthrow of Monarchy on
the 10th August, the Ministers, though still nominally possessed of powers distinct
from the representative body, began to be checked by Committees of the Convention
appointed for various branches of the public service; and in March, 1793, in order to
meet the increasing difficulties of the war, a Committee of Public Safety was
appointed, charged with the duty of exercising a general surveillance over the
administration. In this Committee, however, as in all the others, the Gironde were in
the majority; and the twenty-four members who composed it were too numerous a body
to act with effect. The growing ascendancy of the Mountain produced that
concentration of force which the times required. The Committee was reduced in April
to nine members, and in this form it ultimately became the supreme central power. It
was not until after the revolt of Lyons that the Committee, exchanging Danton's
influence for that of Robespierre, adopted the principle of Terror which has made the
memory of their rule one of the most sinister in history. Their authority steadily
increased. The members divided among themselves the great branches of government.
One directed the army, another the navy, another foreign affairs; the signature of three
members practically gave to any measure the force of law, for the Convention accepted
and voted their reports as a matter of course.
Whilst the Committee gave orders as the supreme executive, eighty of the most
energetic of the Mountain spread themselves over France, in parties of two and three,
with the title of Commissioners of the Convention, and with powers over-riding those
of all the local authorities. They were originally appointed for the purpose of hastening
on the levy ordered by the Convention in March, but their powers were gradually
extended over the whole range of administration. Their will was absolute, their
authority supreme. Where the councillors of the Departments or the municipal officers
were good Jacobins, the Commissioners availed themselves of local machinery; where
they suspected their principles, they sent them to the scaffold, and enforced their own
orders by whatever means were readiest. They censured and dismissed the generals;
one of them even directed the movements of a fleet at sea. What was lost by waste and
confusion and by the interference of the Commissioners in military movements was
more than counterbalanced by the vigour which they threw into all the preparations of
war, and by the unity of purpose which, at the price of unsparing bloodshed, they
communicated to every group where Frenchmen met together.
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But no individual energy could have sustained these dictatorships without the support
of a popular organisation. All over France a system of revolutionary government
sprang up, which superseded all existing institutions just as the authority of the
Commissioners of the Convention superseded all existing local powers. The local
revolutionary administration consisted of a Committee, a Club, and a Tribunal. [28] In
each of 21,000 communes a committee of twelve was elected by the people, and
entrusted by the Convention, as the Terror gained ground, with boundless powers of
arrest and imprisonment. Popular excitement was sustained by clubs, where the
peasants and labourers assembled at the close of their day's work, and applauded the
victories or denounced the enemies of the Revolution. A Tribunal with swift procedure
and powers of life and death sat in each of the largest towns, and judged the prisoners
who were sent to it by the committees of the neighbouring district. Such was the
government of 1793-an executive of uncontrolled power drawn from the members of a
single Assembly, and itself brought into immediate contact with the poorest of the
people in their assemblies and clubs. The balance of interests which creates a
constitutional system, the security of life, liberty, and property, which is the essence of
every recognised social order, did not now exist in France. One public purpose, the
defence of the Revolution, became the law before which all others lost their force.
Treating all France like a town in a state of siege, the Government took upon itself the
duty of providing support for the poorest classes by enactments controlling the sale and
possession of the necessaries of life.
The price of corn and other necessaries was fixed; and, when the traders and producers
consequently ceased to bring their goods to market, the Commissioners of the
Convention were empowered to make requisition of a certain quantity of corn for every
acre of ground. Property was thus placed at the disposal of the men who already
exercised absolute political power. "The state of France," said Burke, "is perfectly
simple. It consists of but two descriptions, the oppressors and the oppressed." It is in
vain that the attempt has been made to extenuate the atrocious and senseless cruelties
of this time by extolling the great legislative projects of the Convention, or pleading the
dire necessity of a land attacked on every side by the foreigner, and rent with civil war.
The more that is known of the Reign of Terror, the more hateful, the meaner and more
disgusting is the picture unveiled. France was saved not by the brutalities, but by the
energy, of the faction that ruled it. It is scarcely too much to say that the cause of
European progress would have been less injured by the military overthrow of the
Republic, by the severance of the border provinces from France and the restoration of
some shadow of the ancient régime, than by the traditions of horror which for the next
fifty years were inseparably associated in men's minds with the victory of the people
over established power.
The Revolutionary organisation did not reach its full vigour till the autumn of 1793,
when the prospects of France were at their worst. Custine, who was brought up from
Alsace to take command of the Army of the North, found it so demoralised that he was
unable to attempt the relief of the fortresses which were now besieged by the Allies.
Condé surrendered to the Austrians on the 10th of July; Valenciennes capitulated to the
Duke of York a fortnight later. In the east the fortune of war was no better. An attack
made on the Prussian army besieging Mainz totally failed; and on the 23rd of July this
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great fortress, which had been besieged since the middle of April, passed back into the
hands of the Germans. On every side the Republic seemed to be sinking before its
enemies. Its frontier defences had fallen before the victorious Austrians and English;
Brunswick was ready to advance upon Alsace from conquered Mainz; Lyons and
Toulon were in revolt; La Vendée had proved the grave of the forces sent to subdue it.
It was in this crisis of misfortune that the Convention placed the entire male population
of France between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five at the disposal of the
Government, and turned the whole country into one great camp and arsenal of war. Nor
was there wanting a mind equal to the task of giving order to this vast material. The
appointment of Carnot, an officer of engineers, to a seat on the Committee of Public
Safety placed the military administration of France in the hands of a man who, as an
organiser, if not as a strategist, was soon to prove himself without equal in Europe.
Nevertheless, it was to the dissensions and to the bad policy of the Allies more than to
the energy of its own Government that France owed its safety. The object for which the
Allies professed to be carrying on the war, the establishment of a pacific Government
in France, was subordinated to schemes of aggrandisement, known as the acquisition of
just indemnities. While Prussia, bent chiefly on preventing the Emperor from gaining
Bavaria in exchange for Belgium, kept its own army inactive on the Rhine, [29]
Austria, with the full approval of Pitt's Cabinet, claimed annexations in Northern
France, as well as Alsace, and treated the conquered town of Condé as Austrian
territory. [30] Henceforward all the operations of the northern army were directed to
the acquisition of frontier territory, not to the pursuit and overthrow of the Republican
forces. The war was openly converted from a war of defence into a war of spoliation. It
was a change which mocked the disinterested professions with which the Allies had
taken up arms; in its military results it was absolutely ruinous. In face of the immense
levies which promised the French certain victory in a long war, the only hope for the
Allies lay in a rapid march to Paris; they preferred the extreme of division and delay.
No sooner had the advance of their united armies driven Custine from his stronghold at
Famars, than the English commander led off his forces to besiege Dunkirk, while the
Austrians, under Prince Coburg, proceeded to invest Cambray and Le Quesnoy. The
line of the invaders thus extended from the Channel to Brunswick's posts at Landau, on
the border of Alsace; the main armies were out of reach of one another, and their
strength was diminished by the corps detached to keep up their communications. The
French held the inner circle; and the advantage which this gave them was well
understood by Carnot, who now inspired the measures of the Committee. In steadiness
and precision the French recruits were no match for the trained armies of Germany; but
the supply of them was inexhaustible, and Carnot knew that when they were thrown in
sufficient masses upon the enemy their courage and enthusiasm would make amends
for their inexperience. The successes of the Allies, unbroken from February to August,
now began to alternate with defeats; the flood of invasion was first slowly and
obstinately repelled, then swept away before a victorious advance.
It was on the British commander that the first blow was struck. The forces that could be
detached from the French Northern army were not sufficient to drive York from before
Dunkirk; but on the Moselle there were troops engaged in watching an enemy who was
not likely to advance; and the Committee did not hesitate to leave this side of France
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open to the Prussians in order to deal a decisive stroke in the north. Before the
movement was noticed by the enemy, Carnot had transported 30,000 men from Metz to
the English Channel; and in the first week of September the German corps covering
York was assailed by General Houchard with numbers double its own. The Germans
were driven back upon Dunkirk; York only saved his own army from destruction by
hastily raising the siege and abandoning his heavy artillery. The victory of the French,
however, was ill followed up. Houchard was sent before the Revolutionary Tribunal,
and he paid with his life for his mistakes. Custine had already perished, unjustly
condemned for the loss of Mainz and Valenciennes.
It was no unimportant change for France when the successors of Custine and Houchard
received their commands from the Committee of Public Safety. The levelling principle
of the Reign of Terror left its effect on France through its operation in the army, and
through this almost alone. Its executions produced only horror and reaction; its
confiscations were soon reversed; but the creation of a thoroughly democratic army, the
work of the men who overthrew the Gironde, gave the most powerful and abiding
impulse to social equality in France. The first generals of the Revolution had been
officers of the old army, men, with a few exceptions, of noble birth, who, like Custine,
had enrolled themselves on the popular side when most of their companions quitted the
country. These generals were connected with the politicians of the Gironde, and were
involved in its fall. The victory of the Mountain brought men of another type into
command. Almost all the leaders appointed by the Committee of Public Safety were
soldiers who had served in the ranks. In the levies of 1792 and 1793 the officers of the
newly-formed battalions were chosen by the recruits themselves. Patriotism, energy of
character, acquaintance with warfare, instantly brought men into prominence. Soldiers
of the old army, like Massena, who had reached middle life with their knapsacks on
their backs; lawyers, like the Breton Moreau; waiters at inns, like Murat, found
themselves at the head of their battalions, and knew that Carnot was ever watching for
genius and ability to call it to the highest commands. With a million of men under
arms, there were many in whom great natural gifts supplied the want of professional
training. It was also inevitable that at the outset command should sometimes fall into
the hands of mere busy politicians; but the character of the generals steadily rose as the
Committee gained the ascendancy over a knot of demagogues who held the War
Ministry during the summer of 1793; and by the end of the year there was scarcely one
officer in high command who had not proved himself worthy of his post. In the
investigation into Houchard's conduct at Dunkirk, Carnot learnt that the victory had in
fact been won by Jourdan, one of the generals of division. Jourdan had begun life as a
common soldier fifteen years before. Discharged at the end of the American War, he
had set up a draper's shop in Limoges, his native town. He joined the army a second
time on the outbreak of the Revolutionary War, and the men of his battalion elected
him captain. His ability was noticed; he was made successively general of brigade and
general of division; and, upon the dismissal of Houchard, Carnot summoned him to the
command of the Army of the North. The Austrians were now engaged in the
investment of Maubeuge. On the 15th of October Jourdan attacked and defeated their
covering army at Wattignies. His victory forced the Austrians to raise the siege, and
brought the campaign to an end for the winter.
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[Lyons, Toulon, La Vendée, conquered Oct.-Dec. 1793.]
Thus successful on the northern frontier, the Republic carried on war against its
internal enemies without pause and without mercy. Lyons surrendered in October; its
citizens were slaughtered by hundreds in cold blood. Toulon had thrown itself into the
hands of the English, and proclaimed King Louis XVII. It was besieged by land; but
the operations produced no effect until Napoleon Bonaparte, captain of artillery,
planned the capture of a ridge from which the cannon of the besiegers would command
the English fleet in the harbour. Hood, the British admiral, now found his position
hopeless. He took several thousands of the inhabitants on board his ships, and put out
to sea, blowing up the French ships which he left in the harbour. Hood had received the
fleet from the Royalists in trust for their King; its destruction gave England command
of the Mediterranean and freed Naples from fear of attack; and Hood thought too little
of the consequences which his act would bring down upon those of the inhabitants of
Toulon whom he left behind. [31]
The horrors that followed the entry of the Republican army into the city did not prevent
Pitt from including among the subjects of congratulation in the King's Speech of 1794
"the circumstances attending the evacuation of Toulon." It was perhaps fortunate for
the Royalists in other parts of France that they failed to receive the assistance of
England. Help was promised to the Vendeans, but it arrived too late. The appearance of
Kleber at the head of the army which had defended Mainz had already turned the scale.
Brave as they were, the Vendeans could not long resist trained armies. The war of
pitched battles ended on the Loire with the year 1793. It was succeeded by a war of
merciless and systematic destruction on the one side, and of ambush and surprises on
the other.
At home the foes of the Republic were sinking; its invaders were too much at discord
with one another to threaten it any longer with serious danger. Prussia was in fact
withdrawing from the war. It has been seen that when King Frederick William and the
Emperor concerted the autumn campaign of 1792, the understanding was formed that
Prussia, in return for its efforts against France, should be allowed to seize part of
western Poland, if the Empress Catherine should give her consent. With this prospect
before it, the thoughts of the Prussian Government had been from the first busied more
with Poland, where it hoped to enter into possession, than with France, where it had
only to fight Austria's battles. Negotiations on the Polish question had been actively
carried on between Berlin and St. Petersburg during the first months of the war; and in
January, 1793, the Empress Catherine had concluded a Treaty of Partition with King
Frederick William, in virtue of which a Prussian army under General Mollendorf
immediately entered western Poland. It was thought good policy to keep the terms of
this treaty secret from Austria, as it granted a much larger portion of Poland to Prussia
than Austria was willing that it should receive. Two months passed before the Austrian
Sovereign learnt how he had been treated by his ally. He then denounced the treaty, and
assumed so threatening an attitude that the Prussians thought it necessary to fortify the
territory that they had seized. [32] The Ministers who had been outwitted by the Court
of Berlin were dismissed; Baron Thugut, who from the first had prophesied nothing but
evil of the Prussian alliance, was called to power. The history of this statesman, who
for the next eight years directed the war-policy of Austria, and filled a part in Europe
subordinate only to those of Pitt and Bonaparte, has until a recent date been drawn
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chiefly from the representations of his enemies. Humbly born, scornful and
inaccessible, Thugut was detested by the Viennese aristocracy; the French emigrants
hated and maligned him on account of his indifference to their cause; the public
opinion of Austria held him responsible for unparalleled military disasters; Prussian
generals and ambassadors, whose reports have formed the basis of Prussian histories,
pictured him as a Satanic antagonist. It was long believed of Thugut that while
ambassador at Constantinople he had sold the Austrian cypher to the French; that in
1794 he prevented his master's armies from winning victories because he had
speculated in the French funds; and that in 1799 he occasioned the murder of the
French envoys at Rastadt, in order to recover documents incriminating himself. Better
sources of information are now opened, and a statesman, jealous, bitter, and
over-reaching, but not without great qualities of character, stands in the place of the
legendary criminal. It is indeed clear that Thugut's hatred of Prussia amounted almost
to mania; it is also clear that his designs of aggression, formed in the school of the
Emperor Joseph, were fatally in conflict with the defensive principles which Europe
ought to have opposed to the aggressions of France. Evidence exists that during the
eight years of Thugut's ministry he entertained, together or successively, projects for
the annexation of French Flanders, Bavaria, Alsace, part of Poland, Venice and
Dalmatia, Salzburg, the Papal Legations, the Republic of Genoa, Piedmont, and
Bosnia; and to this list Tuscany and Savoy ought probably to be added. But the charges
brought against Thugut of underhand dealings with France, and of the willing
abandonment of German interests in return for compensation to Austria in Italy, rest on
insufficient ground. Though, like every other politician at Vienna and Berlin, he
viewed German affairs not as a matter of nationality but in subordination to the general
interests of his own Court, Thugut appears to have been, of all the Continental
statesmen of that time, the steadiest enemy of French aggression, and to have offered
the longest resistance to a peace that was purchased by the cession of German soil. [33]
[Victories of Hoche and Pichegru at Wörth and Weissenburg, Dec. 23, 26.]
Nevertheless, from the moment when Thugut was called to power the alliance between
Austria and Prussia was doomed. Others might perhaps have averted a rupture; Thugut
made no attempt to do so. The siege of Mainz was the last serious operation of war
which the Prussian army performed. The mission of an Austrian envoy, Lehrbach, to
the Prussian camp in August, 1793, and his negotiations on the Polish and the Bavarian
questions, only widened the breach between the two Courts. It was known that the
Austrians were encouraging the Polish Diet to refuse the cession of the provinces
occupied by Prussia; and the advisers of King Frederick William in consequence
recommended him to quit the Rhine, and to place himself at the head of an army in
Poland. At the headquarters of the Allies, between Mainz and the Alsatian frontier, all
was dissension and intrigue. The impetuosity of the Austrian general, Wurmser, who
advanced upon Alsace without consulting the King, was construed as a studied insult.
On the 29th of September, after informing the allied Courts that Prussia would
henceforth take only a subordinate part in the war, King Frederick William quitted the
army, leaving orders with the Duke of Brunswick to fight no great battle. It was in vain
that Wurmser stormed the lines of Weissenburg (Oct. 13), and victoriously pushed
forward into Alsace. The hopes of a Royalist insurrection in Strasburg proved illusory.
The German sympathies shown by a portion of the upper and middle classes of Alsace
only brought down upon them a bloody vengeance at the hands of St. Just,
commissioner of the Convention. The peasantry, partly from hatred of the feudal
burdens of the old régime, partly from fear of St. Just and the guillotine, thronged to the
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French camp. In place of the beaten generals came Hoche and Pichegru: Hoche, lately a
common soldier in the Guards, earning by a humble industry little sums for the
purchase of books, now, at the age of twenty-six, a commander more than a match for
the wrangling veterans of Germany; Pichegru, six years older, also a man sprung from
the people, once a teacher in the military school of Brienne, afterwards a private of
artillery in the American War. A series of harassing encounters took place during
December. At length, with St. Just cheering on the Alsatian peasants in the hottest of
the fire, these generals victoriously carried the Austrian positions at Wörth and at
Weissenburg (Dec. 23, 26). The Austrian commander declared his army to be utterly
ruined; and Brunswick, who had abstained from rendering his ally any real assistance,
found himself a second time back upon the Rhine. [34]
The virtual retirement of Prussia from the Coalition was no secret to the French
Government: amongst the Allies it was viewed in various lights. The Empress
Catherine, who had counted on seeing her troublesome Prussian friend engaged with
her detested French enemy, taunted the King of Prussia with the loss of his personal
honour. Austria, conscious of the antagonism between Prussian and Austrian interests
and of the hollow character of the Coalition, would concede nothing to keep Prussia in
arms. Pitt alone was willing to make a sacrifice, in order to prevent the rupture of the
alliance. The King of Prussia was ready to continue the struggle with France if his
expenses were paid, but not otherwise. Accordingly, after Austria had refused to
contribute the small sum which Pitt asked, a bargain was struck between Lord
Malmesbury and the Prussian Minister Haugwitz, by which Great Britain undertook to
furnish a subsidy, provided that 60,000 Prussian troops, under General Möllendorf,
were placed at the disposal of the Maritime Powers. [35] It was Pitt's intention that the
troops which he subsidised should be massed with Austrian and English forces for the
defence of Belgium: the Prussian Ministry, availing themselves of an ambiguous
expression in the treaty, insisted on keeping them inactive upon the Upper Rhine.
Möllendorf wished to guard Mainz: other men of influence longed to abandon the
alliance with Austria, and to employ the whole of Prussia's force in Poland. At the
moment when Haugwitz was contracting to place Möllendorf's army at Pitt's disposal,
Poland had risen in revolt under Kosciusko, and the Russian garrison which occupied
Warsaw had been overpowered and cut to pieces. Catherine called upon the King of
Prussia for assistance; but it was not so much a desire to rescue the Empress from a
momentary danger that excited the Prussian Cabinet as the belief that her vengeance
would now make an absolute end of what remained of the Polish kingdom. The prey
was doomed; the wisdom of Prussia was to be the first to seize and drag it to the
ground. So large a prospect offered itself to the Power that should crush Poland during
the brief paralysis of the Russian arms, that, on the first news of the outbreak, the
King's advisers urged him instantly to make peace with France and to throw his whole
strength into the Polish struggle. Frederick William could not reconcile himself to
making peace with the Jacobins; but he ordered an army to march upon Warsaw, and
shortly afterwards placed himself at its head (May, 1794). When the King, who was the
only politician in Prussia who took an interest in the French war, thus publicly
acknowledged the higher importance of the Polish campaign, his generals upon the
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Rhine made it their only object to do nothing which it was possible to leave undone
without actually forfeiting the British subsidy. Instead of fighting, Möllendorf spent his
time in urging other people to make peace. It was in vain that Malmesbury argued that
the very object of Pitt's bargain was to keep the French out of the Netherlands:
Möllendorf had made up his mind that the army should not be committed to the orders
of Pitt and the Austrians. He continued in the Palatinate, alleging that any movement of
the Prussian army towards the north would give the French admittance to southern
Germany. Pitt's hope of defending the Netherlands now rested on the energy and on the
sincerity of the Austrian Cabinet, and on this alone.
After breaking up from winter quarters in the spring of 1794, the Austrian and English
allied forces had successfully laid siege to Landrecies, and defeated the enemy in its
neighbourhood. [36] Their advance, however, was checked by a movement of the
French Army of the North, now commanded by Pichegru, towards the Flemish coast.
York and the English troops were exposed to the attack, and suffered a defeat at
Turcoing. The decision of the campaign lay, however, not in the west of Flanders, but
at the other end of the Allies' position, at Charleroi on the Sambre, where a French
victory would either force the Austrians to fall back eastwards, leaving York to his fate,
or sever their communications with Germany. This became evident to the French
Government; and in May the Commissioners of the Convention forced the generals on
the Sambre to fight a series of battles, in which the French repeatedly succeeded in
crossing the Sambre, and were repeatedly driven back again. The fate of the
Netherlands depended, however, on something beside victory or defeat on the Sambre.
The Emperor had come with Baron Thugut to Belgium in the hope of imparting greater
unity and energy to the allied forces, but his presence proved useless. Among the
Austrian generals and diplomatists there were several who desired to withdraw from
the contest in the Netherlands, and to follow the example of Prussia in Poland. The
action of the army was paralysed by intrigues. "Every one," wrote Thugut, "does
exactly as he pleases: there is absolute anarchy and disorder." [37] At the beginning of
June the Emperor quitted the army; the combats on the Sambre were taken up by
Jourdan and 50,000 fresh troops brought from the army of the Moselle; and on the 26th
of June the French defeated Coburg at Fleurus, as he advanced to the relief of
Charleroi, unconscious that Charleroi had surrendered on the day before. Even now the
defence of Belgium was not hopeless; but after one council of war had declared in
favour of fighting, a second determined on a retreat. It was in vain that the
representatives of England appealed to the good faith and military honour of Austria.
Namur and Louvain were abandoned; the French pressed onwards; and before the end
of July the Austrian army had fallen back behind the Meuse. York, forsaken by the
allies, retired northwards before the superior forces of Pichegru, who entered Antwerp
and made himself master of the whole of the Netherlands up to the Dutch frontier. [38]
Such was the result of Great Britain's well-meant effort to assist the two great military
Powers to defend Europe against the Revolution. To the aim of the English Minister,
the defence of existing rights against democratic aggression, most of the public men
alike of Austria and Prussia were now absolutely indifferent. They were willing to let
the French seize and revolutionise any territory they pleased, provided that they
themselves obtained their equivalent in Poland. England was in fact in the position of a
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man who sets out to attack a highway robber, and offers each of his arms to a
pickpocket. The motives and conduct of these politicians were justly enough described
by the English statesmen and generals who were brought into closest contact with
them. In the councils of Prussia, Malmesbury declared that he could find no quality but
"great and shabby art and cunning; ill-will, jealousy, and every sort of dirty passion."
From the head quarters of Möllendorf he wrote to a member of Pitt's Cabinet: "Here I
have to do with knavery and dotage.... If we listened only to our feelings, it would be
difficult to keep any measure with Prussia. We must consider it an alliance with the
Algerians, whom it is no disgrace to pay, or any impeachment of good sense to be
cheated by." To the Austrian commander the Duke of York addressed himself with
royal plainness: "Your Serene Highness, the British nation, whose public opinion is not
to be despised, will consider that it has been bought and sold." [39]
The sorry concert lasted for a few months longer. Coburg, the Austrian commander,
was dismissed at the peremptory demand of Great Britain; his successor, Clerfayt, after
losing a battle on the Ourthe, offered no further resistance to the advance of the
Republican army, and the campaign ended in the capture of Cologne by the French,
and the disappearance of the Austrians behind the Rhine. The Prussian subsidies
granted by England resulted in some useless engagements between Möllendorf's corps
in the Palatinate and a French army double its size, followed by the retreat of the
Prussians into Mainz. It only remained for Great Britain to attempt to keep the French
out of Holland. The defence of the Dutch, after everything south of the river Waal had
been lost, Pitt determined to entrust to abler hands than those of the Duke of York; but
the presence of one high-born blunderer more or less made little difference in a series
of operations conceived in indifference and perversity. Clerfayt would not, or could
not, obey the Emperor's orders and succour his ally. City after city in Holland
welcomed the French. The very elements seemed to declare for the Republic.
Pichegru's army marched in safety over the frozen rivers; and, when the conquest of the
land was completed, his cavalry crowned the campaign by the capture of the Dutch
fleet in the midst of the ice-bound waters of the Texel. The British regiments, cut off
from home, made their way eastward through the snow towards the Hanoverian
frontier, in a state of prostrate misery which is compared by an eye-witness of both
events to that of the French on their retreat in 1813 after the battle of Leipzig. [40]
[Treaties of Basle with Prussia, April 5, and Spain, July 22, 1795.]
The first act of the struggle between France and the Monarchies of Europe was
concluded. The result of three years of war was that Belgium, Nice, and Savoy had
been added to the territory of the Republic, and that French armies were in possession
of Holland, and the whole of Germany west of the Rhine. In Spain and in Piedmont the
mountain-passes and some extent of country had been won. Even on the seas, in spite
of the destruction of the fleet at Toulon, and of a heavy defeat by Lord Howe off
Ushant on the 1st of June, 1794, the strength of France was still formidable; and the
losses which she inflicted on the commercial marine of her enemies exceeded those
which she herself sustained. England, which had captured most of the French West
Indian Islands, was the only Power that had wrested anything from the Republic. The
dream of suppressing the Revolution by force of arms had vanished away; and the
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States which had entered upon the contest in levity, in fanaticism, or at the bidding of
more powerful allies, found it necessary to make peace upon such terms as they could
obtain. Holland, in which a strong Republican party had always maintained connection
with France, abolished the rule of its Stadtholder, and placed its resources at the
disposal of its conquerors. Sardinia entered upon abortive negotiations. Spain, in return
for peace, ceded to the Republic the Spanish half of St. Domingo (July 22, 1795).
Prussia concluded a Treaty at Basle (April 5), which marked and perpetuated the
division of Germany by providing that, although the Empire as a body was still at war
with France, the benefit of Prussia's neutrality should extend to all German States north
of a certain line. A secret article stipulated that, upon the conclusion of a general peace,
if the Empire should cede to France the principalities west of the Rhine, Prussia should
cede its own territory lying in that district, and receive compensation elsewhere. [41]
Humiliating such a peace certainly was; yet it would probably have been the happiest
issue for Europe had every Power been forced to accept its conditions. The territory
gained by France was not much more than the very principle of the Balance of Power
would have entitled it to demand, at a moment when Russia, victorious over the Polish
rebellion, was proceeding to make the final partition of Poland among the three Eastern
Monarchies; and, with all its faults, the France of 1795 would have offered to Europe
the example of a great free State, such as the growth of the military spirit made
impossible after the first of Napoleon's campaigns. But the dark future was withdrawn
from the view of those British statesmen who most keenly felt the evils of the present;
and England, resolutely set against the course of French aggression, still found in
Austria an ally willing to continue the struggle. The financial help of Great Britain, the
Russian offer of a large share in the spoils of Poland, stimulated the flagging energy of
the Emperor's government. Orders were sent to Clerfayt to advance from the Rhine at
whatever risk, in order to withdraw the troops of the Republic from the west of France,
where England was about to land a body of Royalists. Clerfayt, however, disobeyed his
instructions, and remained inactive till the autumn. He then defeated a French army
pushing beyond the Rhine, and drove back the besiegers of Mainz; but the British
expedition had already failed, and the time was passed when Clerfayt's successes might
have produced a decisive result. [42]
[France in 1795.]
A new Government was now entering upon power in France. The Reign of Terror had
ended in July, 1794, with the life of Robespierre. The men by whom Robespierre was
overthrown were Terrorists more cruel and less earnest than himself, who attacked him
only in order to save their own lives, and without the least intention of restoring a
constitutional Government to France. An overwhelming national reaction forced them,
however, to represent themselves as the party of clemency. The reaction was indeed a
simple outburst of human feeling rather than a change in political opinion. Among the
victims of the Terror the great majority had been men of the lower or middle class,
who, except in La Vendée and Brittany, were as little friendly to the old régime as their
executioners. Every class in France, with the exception of the starving city mobs,
longed for security, and the quiet routine of life. After the disorders of the Republic a
monarchical government naturally seemed to many the best guarantee of peace; but the
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monarchy so contemplated was the liberal monarchy of 1791, not the ancient Court,
with its accessories of a landed Church and privileged noblesse. Religion was still a
power in France; but the peasant, with all his superstition and all his desire for order,
was perfectly free from any delusions about the good old times. He liked to see his
children baptised; but he had no desire to see the priest's tithe-collector back in his
barn: he shuddered at the summary marketing of Conventional Commissioners; but he
had no wish to resume his labours on the fields of his late seigneur. To be a Monarchist
in 1795, among the shopkeepers of Paris or the farmers of Normandy, meant no more
than to wish for a political system capable of subsisting for twelve months together,
and resting on some other basis than forced loans and compulsory sales of property.
But among the men of the Convention, who had abolished monarchy and passed
sentence of death upon the King, the restoration of the Crown seemed the bitterest
condemnation of all that the Convention had done for France, and a sentence of
outlawry against themselves. If the will of the nation was for the moment in favour of a
restored monarchy, the Convention determined that its will must be overpowered by
force or thwarted by constitutional forms. Threatened alternately by the Jacobin mob of
Paris and by the Royalist middle class, the Government played off one enemy against
the other, until an ill-timed effort of the emigrant noblesse gave to the Convention the
prestige of a decisive victory over Royalists and foreigners combined. On the 27th of
June, 1795, an English fleet landed the flower of the old nobility of France at the Bay
of Quiberon in southern Brittany. It was only to give one last fatal proof of their
incapacity that these unhappy men appeared once more on French soil. Within three
weeks after their landing, in a region where for years together the peasantry, led by
their landlords, baffled the best generals of the Republic, this invading army of the
nobles, supported by the fleet, the arms, and the money of England, was brought to
utter ruin by the discord of its own leaders. Before the nobles had settled who was to
command and who was to obey, General Hoche surprised their fort, beat them back to
the edge of the peninsula where they had landed, and captured all who were not killed
fighting or rescued by English boats (July 20). The Commissioner Tallien, in order to
purge himself from the just suspicion of Royalist intrigues, caused six hundred
prisoners to be shot in cold blood. [43]
At the moment when the emigrant army reached France, the Convention was engaged
in discussing the political system which was to succeed its own rule. A week earlier,
the Committee appointed to draw up a new constitution for France had presented its
report. The main object of the new constitution in its original form was to secure
France against a recurrence of those evils which it had suffered since 1792. The
calamities of the last three years were ascribed to the sovereignty of a single Assembly.
A vote of the Convention had established the Revolutionary Tribunal, proscribed the
Girondins, and placed France at the mercy of eighty individuals selected by the
Convention from itself. The legislators of 1795 desired a guarantee that no party,
however determined, should thus destroy its enemies by a single law, and unite
supreme legislative and executive power in its own hands. With the object of dividing
authority, the executive was, in the new draft-constitution, made independent of the
legislature, and the legislature itself was broken up into two chambers. A Directory of
five members, chosen by the Assemblies, but not responsible except under actual
impeachment, was to conduct the administration, without the right of proposing laws; a
Chamber of five hundred was to submit laws to the approval of a Council of two
hundred and fifty Ancients, or men of middle life; but neither of these bodies was to
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exercise any influence upon the actual government. One director and a third part of
each of the legislative bodies were to retire every year. [44]
The project thus outlined met with general approval, and gained even that of the
Royalists, who believed that a popular election would place them in a majority in the
two new Assemblies. Such an event was, however, in the eyes of the Convention, the
one fatal possibility that must be averted at every cost. In the midst of the debates upon
the draft-constitution there arrived the news of Hoche's victory at Quiberon. The
Convention gained courage to add a clause providing that two-thirds of the new
deputies should be appointed from among its own members, thus rendering a Royalist
majority in the Chambers impossible. With this condition attached to it, the
Constitution was laid before the country. The provinces accepted it; the Royalist
middle class of Paris rose in insurrection, and marched against the Convention in the
Tuileries. Their revolt was foreseen; the defence of the Convention was entrusted to
General Bonaparte, who met the attack of the Parisians in a style unknown in the
warfare of the capital. Bonaparte's command of trained artillery secured him victory;
but the struggle of the 4th of October (13 Vendémiaire) was the severest that took place
in Paris during the Revolution, and the loss of life in fighting greater than on the day
that overthrew the Monarchy.
The new Government of France now entered into power. Members of the Convention
formed two-thirds of the new legislative bodies; the one-third which the country was
permitted to elect consisted chiefly of men of moderate or Royalist opinions. The five
persons who were chosen Directors were all Conventionalists who had voted for the
death of the King; Carnot, however, who had won the victories without sharing in the
cruelties of the Reign of Terror, was the only member of the late Committee of Public
Safety who was placed in power. In spite of the striking homage paid to the great act of
regicide in the election of the five Directors, the establishment of the Directory was
accepted by Europe as the close of revolutionary disorder. The return of constitutional
rule in France was marked by a declaration on the part of the King of England of his
willingness to treat for peace. A gentler spirit seemed to have arisen in the Republic.
Although the laws against the emigrants and non-juring priests were still unrepealed,
the exiles began to return unmolested to their homes. Life resumed something of its old
aspect in the capital. The rich and the gay consoled themselves with costlier luxury for
all the austerities of the Reign of Terror. The labouring classes, now harmless and
disarmed, were sharply taught that they must be content with such improvement in
their lot as the progress of society might bring.
At the close of this first period of the Revolutionary War we may pause to make an
estimate of the new influences which the French Revolution had brought into Europe,
and of the effects which had thus far resulted from them. The opinion current among
the French people themselves, that the Revolution gave birth to the modern life not of
France only but of the Western Continent generally, is true of one great set of facts; it
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is untrue of another. There were conceptions in France in 1789 which made France a
real contrast to most of the Continental monarchies; there were others which it shared
in common with them. The ideas of social, legal, and ecclesiastical reform which were
realised in 1789 were not peculiar to France; what was peculiar to France was the idea
that these reforms were to be effected by the nation itself. In other countries reforms
had been initiated by Governments, and forced upon an unwilling people. Innovation
sprang from the Crown; its agents were the servants of the State. A distinct class of
improvements, many of them identical with the changes made by the Revolution in
France, attracted the attention in a greater or less degree of almost all the Western
Courts of the eighteenth century. The creation of a simple and regular administrative
system; the reform of the clergy; the emancipation of the Church from the jurisdiction
of the Pope, and of all orders in the State from the jurisdiction of the Church; the
amelioration of the lot of the peasant; the introduction of codes of law abolishing both
the cruelties and the confusion of ancient practice,-all these were purposes more or less
familiar to the absolute sovereigns of the eighteenth century, whom the French so
summarily described as benighted tyrants. It was in Austria, Prussia, and Tuscany that
the civilising energy of the Crown had been seen in its strongest form, but even the
Governments of Naples and Spain had caught the spirit of change. The religious
tolerance which Joseph gave to Austria, the rejection of Papal authority and the
abolition of the punishment of death which Leopold effected in Tuscany, were bolder
efforts of the same political rationalism which in Spain minimised the powers of the
Inquisition and in Naples attempted to found a system of public education. In all this,
however, there was no trace of the action of the people, or of any sense that a nation
ought to raise itself above a state of tutelage. Men of ideas called upon Governments to
impose better institutions upon the people, not upon the people to wrest them from the
Governments.
In France alone a view of public affairs had grown up which impelled the nation to
create its reforms for itself. If the substance of many of the French revolutionary
changes coincided with the objects of Austrian or of Tuscan reform, there was nothing
similar in their method. In other countries reform sprang from the command of an
enlightened ruler; in France it started with the Declaration of the Rights of Man, and
aimed at the creation of local authority to be exercised by the citizens themselves. The
source of this difference lay partly in the influence of England and America upon
French opinion, but much more in the existence within France of a numerous and
energetic middle class, enriched by commerce, and keenly interested in all the
speculation and literary activity of the age. This was a class that both understood the
wrongs which the other classes inflicted or suffered, and felt itself capable of
redressing them. For the flogged and over-driven peasant in Naples or Hungary no ally
existed but the Crown. In most of those poor and backward States which made up
monarchical Europe, the fraction of the inhabitants which neither enjoyed privilege nor
stood in bondage to it was too small to think of forcing itself into power. The nobles
sought to preserve their feudal rights: the Crown sought to reduce them; the nation,
elsewhere than in France, did not intervene and lay hands upon power for itself,
because the nation was nothing but the four mutually exclusive classes of the landlords
who commanded, the peasants who served, the priests who idled, and the soldiers who
fought. France differed from all the other monarchies of the Continent in possessing a
public which blended all classes and was dominated by none; a public comprehending
thousands of men who were familiar with the great interests of society, and who,
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whether noble or not noble, possessed the wealth and the intelligence that made them
rightly desire a share in power.
Liberty, the right of the nation to govern itself, seemed at the outset to be the great
principle of the Revolution. The French people themselves believed the question at
issue to be mainly between authority and popular right; the rest of Europe saw the
Revolution under the same aspect. Hence, in those countries where the example of
France produced political movements, the effect was in the first instance to excite
agitation against the Government, whatever might be the form of the latter. In England
the agitation was one of the middle class against the aristocratic parliamentary system;
in Hungary, it was an agitation of the nobles against the Crown; on the Rhine it was an
agitation of the commercial classes against ecclesiastical rule. But in every case in
which the reforming movement was not supported by the presence of French armies,
the terrors which succeeded the first sanguine hopes of the Revolution struck the
leaders of these movements with revulsion and despair, and converted even the better
Governments into engines of reaction. In France itself it was seen that the desire for
liberty among an enlightened class could not suddenly transform the habits of a nation
accustomed to accept everything from authority. Privilege was destroyed, equality was
advanced; but instead of self-government the Revolution brought France the most
absolute rule it had ever known. It was not that the Revolution had swept by, leaving
things where they were before: it had in fact accomplished most of those great changes
which lay the foundation of a sound social life: but the faculty of self-government, the
first condition of any lasting political liberty, remained to be slowly won.
[Reaction.]
Outside France reaction set in without the benefit of previous change. At London,
Vienna, Naples, and Madrid, Governments gave up all other objects in order to devote
themselves to the suppression of Jacobinism. Pitt, whose noble aims had been the
extinction of the slave-trade, the reform of Parliament, and the advance of national
intercourse by free trade, surrendered himself to men whose thoughts centred upon
informers, Gagging Acts, and constructive treasons, and who opposed all legislation
upon the slave-trade because slaves had been freed by the Jacobins of the Convention.
State trials and imprisonments became the order of the day; but the reaction in England
at least stopped short of the scaffold. At Vienna and Naples fear was more cruel. The
men who either were, or affected to be, in such fear of revolution that they discovered a
Jacobinical allegory in Mozart's last opera, [45] did not spare life when the threads of
anything like a real conspiracy were placed in their hands. At Vienna terror was
employed to crush the constitutional opposition of Hungary to the Austrian Court. In
Naples a long reign of cruelty and oppression began with the creation of a secret
tribunal to investigate charges of conspiracy made by informers. In Mainz, the
Archbishop occupied the last years of his government, after his restoration in 1793,
with a series of brutal punishments and tyrannical precautions.
These were but instances of the effect which the first epoch of the Revolution produced
upon the old European States. After a momentary stimulus to freedom it threw the
nations themselves into reaction and apathy; it totally changed the spirit of the better
governments, attaching to all liberal ideas the stigma of Revolution, and identifying the
work of authority with resistance to every kind of reform. There were States in which
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this change, the first effect of the Revolution, was also its only one; States whose
history, as in the case of England, is for a whole generation the history of political
progress unnaturally checked and thrown out of its course. There were others, and these
the more numerous, where the first stimulus and the first reaction were soon forgotten
in new and penetrating changes produced by the successive victories of France. The
nature of these changes, even more than the warfare which introduced them, gives its
interest to the period on which we are about to enter.
CHAPTER III.
With the opening of the year 1796 the leading interest of European history passes to a
new scene. Hitherto the progress of French victory had been in the direction of the
Rhine: the advance of the army of the Pyrenees had been cut short by the conclusion of
peace with Spain; the army of Italy had achieved little beyond some obscure successes
in the mountains. It was the appointment of Napoleon Bonaparte to the command of the
latter force, in the spring of 1796, that first centred the fortunes of the Republic in the
land beyond the Alps. Freed from Prussia by the Treaty of Basle, the Directory was
now able to withdraw its attention from Holland and from the Lower Rhine, and to
throw its whole force into the struggle with Austria. By the advice of Bonaparte a
threefold movement was undertaken against Vienna, by way of Lombardy, by the
valley of the Danube, and by the valley of the Main. General Jourdan, in command of
the army that had conquered the Netherlands, was ordered to enter Germany by
Frankfort; Moreau crossed the Rhine at Strasburg: Bonaparte himself, drawing his
scanty supplies along the coast-road from Nice, faced the allied forces of Austria and
Sardinia upon the slopes of the Maritime Apennines, forty miles to the west of Genoa.
The country in which he was about to operate was familiar to Bonaparte from service
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there in 1794; his own descent and language gave him singular advantages in any
enterprise undertaken in Italy. Bonaparte was no Italian at heart; but he knew at least
enough of the Italian nature to work upon its better impulses, and to attach its hopes, so
long as he needed the support of Italian opinion, to his own career of victory.
[Condition of Italy.]
Three centuries separated the Italy of that day from the bright and vigorous Italy which,
in the glow of its Republican freedom, had given so much to Northern Europe in art, in
letters, and in the charm of life. A long epoch of subjection to despotic or foreign rule,
of commercial inaction, of decline in mind and character, had made the Italians of no
account among the political forces of Europe. Down to the peace of Aix-la-Chapelle in
1748 their provinces were bartered between the Bourbons and the Hapsburgs; and
although the settlement of that date left no part of Italy, except the Duchy of Milan,
incorporated in a foreign empire, yet the crown of Naples was vested in a younger
branch of the Spanish Bourbons, and the marriage of Maria Theresa with the Archduke
Francis made Tuscany an appanage of the House of Austria. Venice and Genoa
retained their independence and their republican government, but little of their ancient
spirit. At the outbreak of the Revolutionary War, Austrian influence was dominant
throughout the peninsula, Marie Caroline, the Queen and the ruler of Ferdinand of
Naples, being the sister of the Emperor Leopold and Marie Antoinette. With the
exception of Piedmont, which preserved a strong military sentiment and the tradition of
an active and patriotic policy, the Italian States were either, like Venice and Genoa,
anxious to keep themselves out of danger by seeming to hear and see nothing that
passed around them, or governed by families in the closest connection with the great
reigning Houses of the Continent. Neither in Italy itself, nor in the general course of
European affairs during the Napoleonic period, was anything determined by the
sentiment of the Italian people. The peasantry at times fought against the French with
energy; but no strong impulse, like that of the Spaniards, enlisted the upper class of
Italians either on the side of Napoleon or on that of his enemies. Acquiescence and
submission had become the habit of the race; the sense of national unity and worth, the
personal pride which makes the absence of liberty an intolerable wrong, only entered
the Italian character at a later date.
Yet, in spite of its political nullity, Italy was not in a state of decline. Its worst days had
ended before the middle of the eighteenth century. The fifty years preceding the French
Revolution, if they had brought nothing of the spirit of liberty, had in all other respects
been years of progress and revival. In Lombardy the government of Maria Theresa and
Joseph awoke life and motion after ages of Spanish torpor and misrule. Traditions of
local activity revived; the communes were encouraged in their works of irrigation and
rural improvement; a singular liberality towards public opinion and the press made the
Austrian possessions the centre of the intellectual movement of Italy. In the south,
progress began on the day when the last foreign Viceroy disappeared from Naples
(1735), and King Charles III., though a member of the Spanish House, entered upon the
government of the two Sicilies as an independent kingdom. Venice and the Papal States
alone seemed to be untouched by the spirit of material and social improvement, so
active in the rest of Italy before the interest in political life had come into being.
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Nor was the age without its intellectual distinction. If the literature of Italy in the
second half of the eighteenth century had little that recalled the inspiration of its
splendid youth, it showed at least a return to seriousness and an interest in important
things. The political economists of Lombardy were scarcely behind those of England;
the work of the Milanese Beccaria on "Crimes and Punishments" stimulated the reform
of criminal law in every country in Europe; an intelligent and increasing attention to
problems of agriculture, commerce, and education took the place of the fatuous
gallantries and insipid criticism which had hitherto made up the life of Italians of birth
and culture. One man of genius, Vittorio Alfieri, the creator of Italian tragedy, idealised
both in prose and verse a type of rugged independence and resistance to tyrannical
power. Alfieri was neither a man of political judgment himself nor the representative of
any real political current in Italy; but the lesson which he taught to the Italians, the
lesson of respect for themselves and their country, was the one which Italy most of all
required to learn; and the appearance of this manly and energetic spirit in its literature
gave hope that the Italian nation would not long be content to remain without political
being.
[Social condition.]
[Tuscany.]
Italy, to the outside world, meant little more than the ruins of the Roman Forum, the
galleries of Florence, the paradise of Capri and the Neapolitan coast; the singular
variety in its local conditions of life gained little attention from the foreigner. There
were districts in Italy where the social order was almost of a Polish type of barbarism;
there were others where the rich and the poor lived perhaps under a happier relation
than in any other country in Europe. The difference depended chiefly upon the extent to
which municipal life had in past time superseded the feudal order under which the
territorial lord was the judge and the ruler of his own domain. In Tuscany the city had
done the most in absorbing the landed nobility; in Naples and Sicily it had done the
least. When, during the middle ages, the Republic of Florence forced the feudal lords
who surrounded it to enter its walls as citizens, in some cases it deprived them of all
authority, in others it permitted them to retain a jurisdiction over their peasants; but
even in these instances the sovereignty of the city deprived the feudal relation of most
of its harshness and force. After the loss of Florentine liberty, the Medici, aping the
custom of older monarchies, conferred the title of marquis and count upon men who
preferred servitude to freedom, and accompanied the grant of rank with one of
hereditary local authority; but the new institutions took no deep hold on country life,
and the legislation of the first Archduke of the House of Lorraine (1749) left the landed
aristocracy in the position of mere country gentlemen. [46] Estates were not very large:
the prevalent agricultural system was, as it still is, that of the mezzeria, a partnership
between the landlord and tenant; the tenant holding by custom in perpetuity, and
sharing the produce with the landlord, who supplied a part of the stock and materials
for farming. In Tuscany the conditions of the mezzeria were extremely favourable to
the tenant; and if a cheerful country life under a mild and enlightened government were
all that a State need desire, Tuscany enjoyed rare happiness.
[Piedmont.]
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Far different was the condition of Sicily and Naples. Here the growth of city life had
never affected the rough sovereignty which the barons exercised over great tracts of
country withdrawn from the civilised world. When Charles III. ascended the throne in
1735, he found whole provinces in which there was absolutely no administration of
justice on the part of the State. The feudal rights of the nobility were in the last degree
oppressive, the barbarism of the people was in many districts extreme. Out of two
thousand six hundred towns and villages in the kingdom, there were only fifty that
were not subject to feudal authority. In the manor of San Gennaro di Palma, fifteen
miles from Naples, even down to the year 1786 the officers of the baron were the only
persons who lived in houses; the peasants, two thousand in number, slept among the
corn-ricks. [47] Charles, during his tenure of the Neapolitan crown, from 1735 to 1759,
and the Ministers Tanucci and Caraccioli under his feeble successor Ferdinand IV.,
enforced the authority of the State in justice and administration, and abolished some of
the most oppressive feudal rights of the nobility; but their legislation, though bold and
even revolutionary according to an English standard, could not in the course of two
generations transform a social system based upon centuries of misgovernment and
disorder. At the outbreak of the French Revolution the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies
was, as it still in a less degree is, a land of extreme inequalities of wealth and poverty, a
land where great estates wasted in the hands of oppressive or indolent owners, and the
peasantry, untrained either by remunerative industry or by a just and regular
enforcement of the law, found no better guide than a savage and fanatical priesthood.
Over the rest of Italy the conditions of life varied through all degrees between the
Tuscan and the Neapolitan type. Piedmont, in military spirit and patriotism far superior
to the other Italian States, was socially one of the most backward of all. It was a land of
priests, nobles, and soldiers, where a gloomy routine and the repression of all
originality of thought and character drove the most gifted of its children, like the poet
Alfieri, to seek a home on some more liberal soil.
During the first years of the Revolution, an attempt had been made by French
enthusiasts to extend the Revolution into Italy by means of associations in the principal
towns; but it met with no great success. A certain liberal movement arose among the
young men of the upper classes at Naples, where, under the influence of Queen Marie
Caroline, the Government had now become reactionary; and in Turin and several of the
Lombard cities the French were not without partisans; but no general disaffection like
that of Savoy existed east of the Alps. The agitation of 1789 and 1792 had passed by
without bringing either liberty or national independence to the Italians. When
Bonaparte received his command, that fervour of Republican passion which, in the
midst of violence and wrong, had seldom been wanting in the first leaders of the
Revolutionary War, had died out in France. The politicians who survived the Reign of
Terror and gained office in the Directory repeated the old phrases about the Rights of
Man and the Liberation of the Peoples only as a mode of cajolery. Bonaparte entered
Italy proclaiming himself the restorer of Italian freedom, but with the deliberate
purpose of using Italy as a means of recruiting the exhausted treasury of France. His
correspondence with the Directory exposes with brazen frankness this well-considered
system of pillage and deceit, in which the general and the Government were cordially
at one. On the further question, how France should dispose of any territory that might
be conquered in Northern Italy, Bonaparte and the Directory had formed no
understanding, and their purposes were in fact at variance. The Directory wished to
conquer Lombardy in order to hand it back to Austria in return for the Netherlands;
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Bonaparte had at least formed the conception that an Italian State was possible, and he
intended to convert either Austrian Lombardy itself, or some other portion of Northern
Italy, into a Republic, serving as a military outwork for France.
The campaign of 1796 commenced in April, in the mountains above the coast-road
connecting Nice and Genoa. Bonaparte's own army numbered 40,000 men; the force
opposed to it consisted of 38,000 Austrians, under Beaulieu, and a smaller Sardinian
army, so placed upon the Piedmontese Apennines as to block the passes from the
coast-road into Piedmont, and to threaten the rear of the French if they advanced
eastward against Genoa. The Piedmontese army drew its supplies from Turin, the
Austrian from Mantua; to sever the two armies was to force them on to lines of retreat
conducting them farther and farther apart from one another. Bonaparte foresaw the
effect which such a separation of the two armies would produce upon the Sardinian
Government. For four days he reiterated his attacks at Montenotte and Millesimo, until
he had forced his own army into a position in the centre of the Allies; then, leaving a
small force to watch the Austrians, he threw the mass of his troops upon the
Piedmontese, and drove them back to within thirty miles of Turin. The terror-stricken
Government, anticipating an outbreak in the capital itself, accepted an armistice from
Bonaparte at Cherasco (April 28), and handed over to the French the fortresses of Coni,
Ceva, and Tortona, which command the entrances of Italy. It was an unworthy
capitulation for Turin could not have been taken before the Austrians returned in force;
but Bonaparte had justly calculated the effect of his victory; and the armistice, which
was soon followed by a treaty of peace between France and Sardinia, ceding Savoy to
the Republic, left him free to follow the Austrians, untroubled by the existence of some
of the strongest fortresses of Europe behind him.
In the negotiations with Sardinia Bonaparte demanded the surrender of the town of
Valenza, as necessary to secure his passage over the river Po. Having thus led the
Austrian Beaulieu to concentrate his forces at this point, he suddenly moved eastward
along the southern bank of the river, and crossed at Piacenza, fifty miles below the spot
where Beaulieu was awaiting him. It was an admirable movement. The Austrian
general, with the enemy threatening his communications, had to abandon Milan and all
the country west of it, and to fall back upon the line of the Adda. Bonaparte followed,
and on the 10th of May attacked the Austrians at Lodi. He himself stormed the bridge
of Lodi at the head of his Grenadiers. The battle was so disastrous to the Austrians that
they could risk no second engagement, and retired upon Mantua and the line of the
Mincio. [48]
Bonaparte now made his triumphal entry into Milan (May 15). The splendour of his
victories and his warm expressions of friendship for Italy excited the enthusiasm of a
population not hitherto hostile to Austrian rule. A new political movement began. With
the French army there came all the partisans of the French Republic who had been
expelled from other parts of Italy. Uniting with the small revolutionary element already
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existing in Milan, they began to form a new public opinion by means of journals and
patriotic meetings. It was of the utmost importance to Bonaparte that a Republican
party should be organised among the better classes in the towns of Lombardy; for the
depredations of the French army exasperated the peasants, and Bonaparte's own
measures were by no means of a character to win him unmixed goodwill. The
instructions which he received from the Directory were extremely simple. "Leave
nothing in Italy," they wrote to him on the day of his entry into Milan, "which will be
useful to us, and which the political situation will allow you to remove." If Bonaparte
had felt any doubt as to the meaning of such an order, the pillage of works of art in
Belgium and Holland in preceding years would have shown him that it was meant to be
literally interpreted. Accordingly, in return for the gift of liberty, the Milanese were
invited to offer to their deliverers twenty million francs, and a selection from the
paintings in their churches and galleries. The Dukes of Parma and Modena, in return
for an armistice, were required to hand over forty of their best pictures, and a sum of
money proportioned to their revenues. The Dukes and the townspeople paid their
contributions with good grace: the peasantry of Lombardy, whose cattle were seized in
order to supply an army that marched without any stores of its own, rose in arms, and
threw themselves into Pavia, killing all the French soldiers who fell in their way. The
revolt was instantly suppressed, and the town of Pavia given up to pillage. In deference
to the Liberal party of Italy, the movement was described as a conspiracy of priests and
nobles.
[Venice.]
The way into Central Italy now lay open before Bonaparte. Rome and Naples were in
no condition to offer resistance; but with true military judgment the French general
declined to move against this feeble prey until the army of Austria, already crippled,
was completely driven out of the field. Instead of crossing the Apennines, Bonaparte
advanced against the Austrian positions upon the Mincio. It suited him to violate the
neutrality of the adjacent Venetian territory by seizing the town of Brescia. His
example was followed by Beaulieu, who occupied Peschiera, at the foot of the Lake of
Garda, and thus held the Mincio along its whole course from the lake to Mantua. A
battle was fought and lost by the Austrians half-way between the lake and the fortress.
Beaulieu's strength was exhausted; he could meet the enemy no more in the field, and
led his army out of Italy into the Tyrol, leaving Mantua to be invested by the French.
The first care of the conqueror was to make Venice pay for the crime of possessing
territory intervening between the eastern and western extremes of the Austrian district.
Bonaparte affected to believe that the Venetians had permitted Beaulieu to occupy
Peschiera before he seized upon Brescia himself. He uttered terrifying threats to the
envoys who came from Venice to excuse an imaginary crime. He was determined to
extort money from the Venetian Republic; he also needed a pretext for occupying
Verona, and for any future wrongs. "I have purposely devised this rupture," he wrote to
the Directory (June 7th), "in case you should wish to obtain five or six millions of
francs from Venice. If you have more decided intentions, I think it would be well to
keep up the quarrel." The intention referred to was the disgraceful project of sacrificing
Venice to Austria in return for the cession of the Netherlands, a measure based on plans
familiar to Thugut as early as the year 1793. [49]
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[Armistice with the Pope, June 23.]
The Austrians were fairly driven out of Lombardy, and Bonaparte was now free to deal
with southern Italy. He advanced into the States of the Church, and expelled the Papal
Legate from Bologna. Ferdinand of Naples, who had lately called heaven and earth to
witness the fury of his zeal against an accursed horde of regicides, thought it prudent to
stay Bonaparte's hand, at least until the Austrians were in a condition to renew the war
in Lombardy. He asked for a suspension of hostilities against his own kingdom. The
fleet and the sea-board of Naples gave it importance in the struggle between France and
England, and Bonaparte granted the king an armistice on easy terms. The Pope, in
order to gain a few months' truce, had to permit the occupation of Ferrara, Ravenna,
and Ancona, and to recognise the necessities, the learning, the taste, and the virtue of
his conquerors by a gift of twenty million francs, five hundred manuscripts, a hundred
pictures, and the busts of Marcus and Lucius Brutus. The rule of the Pope was
unpopular in Bologna, and a Senate which Bonaparte placed in power, pending the
formation of a popular Government gladly took the oath of fidelity to the French
Republic. Tuscany was the only State that remained to be dealt with. Tuscany had
indeed made peace with the Republic a year before, but the ships and cargoes of the
English merchants at Leghorn were surely fair prey; and, with the pretence of
punishing insults offered by the English to the French flag, Bonaparte descended upon
Leghorn, and seized upon everything that was not removed before his approach. Once
established in Leghorn, the French declined to quit it. By way of adjusting the relations
of the Grand Duke, the English seized his harbour of Porto Ferraio, in the island of
Elba.
Mantua was meanwhile invested, and thither, after his brief incursion into Central Italy,
Bonaparte returned. Towards the end of July an Austrian relieving army, nearly double
the strength of Bonaparte's, descended from the Tyrol. It was divided into three corps:
one, under Quosdanovich, advanced by the road on the west of Lake Garda; the others,
under Wurmser, the commander-in-chief, by the roads between the lake and the river
Adige. The peril of the French was extreme; their outlying divisions were defeated and
driven in; Bonaparte could only hope to save himself by collecting all his forces at the
foot of the lake, and striking at one or other of the Austrian armies before they effected
their junction on the Mincio. He instantly broke up the siege of Mantua, and withdrew
from every position east of the river. On the 30th of July, Quosdanovich was attacked
and checked at Lonato, on the west of the Lake of Garda. Wurmser, unaware of his
colleague's repulse, entered Mantua in triumph, and then set out, expecting to envelop
Bonaparte between two fires. But the French were ready for his approach. Wurmser
was stopped and defeated at Castiglione, while the western Austrian divisions were still
held in check at Lonato. The junction of the Austrian armies had become impossible. In
five days the skill of Bonaparte and the unsparing exertions of his soldiery had more
than retrieved all that appeared to have been lost. [50] The Austrians retired into the
Tyrol, beaten and dispirited, and leaving 15,000 prisoners in the hands of the enemy.
Bonaparte now prepared to force his way into Germany by the Adige, in fulfilment of
the original plan of the campaign. In the first days of September he again routed the
Austrians, and gained possession of Roveredo and Trent. Wurmser hereupon attempted
to shut the French up in the mountains by a movement southwards; but, while he
operated with insufficient forces between the Brenta and the Adige, he was cut off from
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Germany, and only escaped capture by throwing himself into Mantua with the shattered
remnant of his army. The road into Germany through the Tyrol now lay open; but in
the midst of his victories Bonaparte learnt that the northern armies of Moreau and
Jourdan, with which he had intended to co-operate in an attack upon Vienna, were in
full retreat.
Moreau's advance into the valley of the Danube had, during the months of July and
August, been attended with unbroken military and political success. The Archduke
Charles, who was entrusted with the defence of the Empire, found himself unable to
bring two armies into the field capable of resisting those of Moreau and Jourdan
separately, and he therefore determined to fall back before Moreau towards
Nuremberg, ordering Wartensleben, who commanded the troops facing Jourdan on the
Main, to retreat in the same direction, in order that the two armies might throw their
collected force upon Jourdan while still at some distance north of Moreau. [51] The
design of the Archduke succeeded in the end, but it opened Germany to the French for
six weeks, and showed how worthless was the military constitution of the Empire, and
how little the Germans had to expect from one another. After every skirmish won by
Moreau some neighbouring State abandoned the common defence and hastened to
make its terms with the invader. On the 17th of July the Duke of Würtemberg
purchased an armistice at the price of four million francs; a week later Baden gained
the French general's protection in return for immense supplies of food and stores. The
troops of the Swabian Circle of the Empire, who were ridiculed as "harlequins" by the
more martial Austrians, dispersed to their homes; and no sooner had Moreau entered
Bavaria than the Bavarian contingent in its turn withdrew from the Archduke. Some
consideration was shown by Moreau's soldiery to those districts which had paid tribute
to their general; but in the region of the Main, Jourdan's army plundered without
distinction and without mercy. They sacked the churches, they maltreated the children,
they robbed the very beggars of their pence. Before the Archduke Charles was ready to
strike, the peasantry of this country, whom their governments were afraid to arm, had
begun effective reprisals of their own. At length the retreating movement of the
Austrians stopped. Leaving 30,000 men on the Lech to disguise his motions from
Moreau, Charles turned suddenly northwards from Neuburg on the [***] August, met
Wartensleben at Amberg, and attacked Jourdan at this place with greatly superior
numbers. Jourdan was defeated and driven back in confusion towards the Rhine. The
issue of the campaign was decided before Moreau heard of his colleague's danger. It
only remained for him to save his own army by a skilful retreat. Jourdan's soldiers,
returning through districts which they had devastated, suffered heavier losses from the
vengeance of the peasantry than from the army that pursued them. By the autumn of
1796 no Frenchman remained beyond the Rhine. The campaign had restored the
military spirit of Austria and given Germany a general in whom soldiers could trust;
but it had also shown how willing were the Governments of the minor States to become
the vassals of a foreigner, how little was wanting to convert the western half of the
Empire into a dependency of France.
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With each change in the fortunes of the campaign of 1796 the diplomacy of the
Continent had changed its tone. When Moreau won his first victories, the Court of
Prussia, yielding to the pressure of the Directory, substituted for the conditional clauses
of the Treaty of Basle a definite agreement to the cession of the left bank of the Rhine,
and a stipulation that Prussia should be compensated for her own loss by the
annexation of the Bishopric of Münster. Prussia could not itself cede provinces of the
Empire: it could only agree to their cession. In this treaty, however, Prussia definitely
renounced the integrity of the Empire, and accepted the system known as the
Secularisation of Ecclesiastical States, the first step towards an entire reconstruction of
Germany. [52] The engagement was kept secret both from the Emperor and from the
ecclesiastical princes. In their negotiations with Austria the Directory were less
successful. Although the long series of Austrian disasters had raised a general outcry
against Thugut's persistence in the war, the resolute spirit of the Minister never bent;
and the ultimate victory of the Archduke Charles more than restored his influence over
the Emperor. Austria refused to enter into any negotiation not conducted in common
with England, and the Directory were for the present foiled in their attempts to isolate
England from the Continental Powers. It was not that Thugut either hoped or cared for
that restoration of Austrian rule in the Netherlands which was the first object of
England's Continental policy. The abandonment of the Netherlands by France was,
however, in his opinion necessary for Austria, as a step towards the acquisition of
Bavaria, which was still the cherished hope of the Viennese Government. It was in vain
that the Directory suggested that Austria should annex Bavaria without offering
Belgium or any other compensation to its ruler. Thugut could hardly be induced to
listen to the French overtures. He had received the promise of immediate help from the
Empress Catherine; he was convinced that the Republic, already anxious for peace,
might by one sustained effort be forced to abandon all its conquests; and this was the
object for which, in the winter of 1796, army after army was hurled against the
positions where Bonaparte kept his guard on the north of the still unconquered Mantua.
[53]
In England itself the victory of the Archduke Charles raised expectations of peace. The
war had become unpopular through the loss of trade with France, Spain, and Holland,
and petitions for peace daily reached Parliament. Pitt so far yielded to the prevalent
feeling as to enter into negotiations with the Directory, and despatched Lord
Malmesbury to Paris; but the condition upon which Pitt insisted, the restoration of the
Netherlands to Austria, rendered agreement hopeless; and as soon as Pitt's terms were
known to the Directory, Malmesbury was ordered to leave Paris. Nevertheless, the
negotiation was not a mere feint on Pitt's part. He was possessed by a fixed idea that
the resources of France were exhausted, and that, in spite of the conquest of Lombardy
and the Rhine, the Republic must feel itself too weak to continue the war. Amid the
disorders of Revolutionary finance, and exaggerated reports of suffering and distress,
Pitt failed to recognise the enormous increase of production resulting from the changes
which had given the peasant full property in his land and labour, and thrown vast
quantities of half-waste domain into the busy hands of middling and small proprietors.
[54]
Whatever were the resources of France before the Revolution, they were now probably
more than doubled. Pitt's belief in the economic ruin of France, the only ground on
which he could imagine that the Directory would give up Belgium without fighting for
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it, was wholly erroneous, and the French Government would have acted strangely if
they had listened to his demand.
Nevertheless, though the Directory would not hear of surrendering Belgium, they were
anxious to conclude peace with Austria, and unwilling to enter into any engagements in
the conquered provinces of Italy which might render peace with Austria more difficult.
They had instructed Bonaparte to stir up the Italians against their Governments, but this
was done with the object of paralysing the Governments, not of emancipating the
peoples. They looked with dislike upon any scheme of Italian reconstruction which
should bind France to the support of newly-formed Italian States. Here, however, the
scruples of the Directory and the ambition of Bonaparte were in direct conflict.
Bonaparte intended to create a political system in Italy which should bear the stamp of
his own mind and require his own strong hand to support it. In one of his despatches to
the Directory he suggested the formation of a client Republic out of the Duchy of
Modena, where revolutionary movements had broken out. Before it was possible for
the Government to answer him, he published a decree, declaring the population of
Modena and Reggio under the protection of the French army, and deposing all the
officers of the Duke (Oct. 4). When, some days later, the answer of the Directory
arrived, it cautioned Bonaparte against disturbing the existing order of the Italian
States. Bonaparte replied by uniting to Modena the Papal provinces of Bologna and
Ferrara, and by giving to the State which he had thus created the title of the Cispadane
Republic. [55]
The event was no insignificant one. It is from this time that the idea of Italian
independence, though foreign to the great mass of the nation, may be said to have taken
birth as one of those political hopes which wane and recede, but do not again leave the
world. A class of men who had turned with dislike from the earlier agitation of French
Republicans in Italy rightly judged the continued victories of Bonaparte over the
Austrians to be the beginning of a series of great changes, and now joined the
revolutionary movement in the hope of winning from the overthrow of the old Powers
some real form of national independence. In its origin the French party may have been
composed of hirelings and enthusiasts. This ceased to be the case when, after the
passage of the Mincio, Bonaparte entered the Papal States. Among the citizens of
Bologna in particular there were men of weight and intelligence who aimed at free
constitutional government, and checked in some degree the more numerous popular
party which merely repeated the phrases of French democracy. Bonaparte's own
language and action excited the brightest hopes. At Modena he harangued the citizens
upon the mischief of Italy's divisions, and exhorted them to unite with their brethren
whom he had freed from the Pope. A Congress was held at Modena on the 16th of
October. The representatives of Modena, Reggio, Bologna, and Ferrara declared
themselves united in a Republic under the protection of France. They abolished feudal
nobility, decreed a national levy, and summoned a General Assembly to meet at Reggio
two months later, in order to create the Constitution of the new Cispadane Republic. It
was in the Congress of Modena, and in the subsequent Assembly of Reggio (Dec. 23),
that the idea of Italian unity and independence first awoke the enthusiasm of any
considerable body of men. With what degree of sincerity Bonaparte himself acted may
be judged from the circumstance that, while he harangued the Cispadanes on the
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Mantua still held out, and in November the relieving operations of the Austrians were
renewed. Two armies, commanded by Allvintzy and Davidovich, descended the valleys
of the Adige and the Piave, offering to Bonaparte, whose centre was at Verona, a new
opportunity of crushing his enemy in detail. Allvintzy, coming from the Piave, brought
the French into extreme danger in a three days' battle at Arcola, but was at last forced
to retreat with heavy loss. Davidovich, who had been successful on the Adige, retired
on learning the overthrow of his colleague. Two months more passed, and the
Austrians for the third time appeared on the Adige. A feint made below Verona nearly
succeeded in drawing Bonaparte away from Rivoli, between the Adige and Lake
Garda, where Allvintzy and his main army were about to make the assault; but the
strength of Allvintzy's force was discovered before it was too late, and by throwing his
divisions from point to point with extraordinary rapidity, Bonaparte at length
overwhelmed the Austrians in every quarter of the battle-field. This was their last
effort. The surrender of Mantua on the 2nd February, 1797, completed the French
conquest of Austrian Lombardy. [56]
The Pope now found himself left to settle his account with the invaders, against whom,
even after the armistice, he had never ceased to intrigue. [57] His despatches to Vienna
fell into the hands of Bonaparte, who declared the truce broken, and a second time
invaded the Papal territory. A show of resistance was made by the Roman troops; but
the country was in fact at the mercy of Bonaparte, who advanced as far as Tolentino,
thirty miles south of Ancona. Here the Pope tendered his submission. If the Roman
Court had never appeared to be in a more desperate condition, it had never found a
more moderate or a more politic conqueror. Bonaparte was as free from any sentiment
of Christian piety as Nero or Diocletian; but he respected the power of the Papacy over
men's minds, and he understood the immense advantage which any Government of
France supported by the priesthood would possess over those who had to struggle with
its hostility. In his negotiations with the Papal envoys he deplored the violence of the
French Executive, and consoled the Church with the promise of his own protection and
sympathy. The terms of peace which he granted, although they greatly diminished the
ecclesiastical territory were in fact more favourable than the Pope had any right to
expect. Bologna, Ferrara, and the Romagna, which had been occupied in virtue of the
armistice, were now ceded by the Papacy. But conditions affecting the exercise of the
spiritual power which had been proposed by the Directory were withdrawn; and,
beyond a provision for certain payments in money, nothing of importance was added to
the stipulations of the armistice.
The last days of the Venetian Republic were now at hand. It was in vain that Venice
had maintained its neutrality when all the rest of Italy joined the enemies of France; its
refusal of a French alliance was made an unpardonable crime. So long as the war with
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Austria lasted, Bonaparte exhausted the Venetian territory with requisitions: when
peace came within view, it was necessary that he should have some pretext for seizing
it or handing it over to the enemy. In fulfilment of his own design of keeping a quarrel
open, he had subjected the Government to every insult and wrong likely to goad it into
an act of war. When at length Venice armed for the purpose of protecting its neutrality,
the organs of the invader called upon the inhabitants of the Venetian mainland to rise
against the oligarchy, and to throw in their lot with the liberated province of Milan. A
French alliance was once more urged upon Venice by Bonaparte: it was refused, and
the outbreak which the French had prepared instantly followed. Bergamo and Brescia,
where French garrisons deprived the Venetian Government of all power of defence,
rose in revolt, and renounced all connection with Venice. The Senate begged Bonaparte
to withdraw the French garrisons; its entreaties drew nothing from him but repeated
demands for the acceptance of the French alliance, which was only another name for
subjection. Little as the Venetians suspected it, the only doubt now present to
Bonaparte was whether he should add the provinces of Venetia to his own Cispadane
Republic or hand them over to Austria in exchange for other cessions which France
required.
Austria could defend itself in Italy no longer. Before the end of March the
mountain-passes into Carinthia were carried by Bonaparte. His army drove the enemy
before it along the road to Vienna, until both pursuers and pursued were within eighty
miles of the capital. At Leoben, on the 7th of April, Austrian commander asked for a
suspension of arms. It was granted, and negotiations for peace commenced. [58]
Bonaparte offered the Venetian provinces, but not the city of Venice, to the Emperor.
On the 18th of April preliminaries of peace were signed at Leoben, by which, in return
for the Netherlands and for Lombardy west of the river Oglio, Bonaparte secretly
agreed to hand over to Austria the whole of the territory of Venice upon the mainland
east of the Oglio, in addition to its Adriatic provinces of Istria and Dalmatia. To
disguise the act of spoliation, it was pretended that Bologna and Ferrara should be
offered to Venice in return. [59]
But worse was yet to come. While Bonaparte was in conference at Leoben, an outbreak
took place at Verona, and three hundred French soldiers, including the sick in the
hospital, perished by popular violence. The Venetian Senate despatched envoys to
Bonaparte to express their grief and to offer satisfaction; in the midst of the
negotiations intelligence arrived that the commander of a Venetian fort had fired upon
a French vessel and killed some of the crew. Bonaparte drove the envoys from his
presence, declaring that he could not treat with men whose hands were dripping with
French blood. A declaration of war was published, charging the Senate with the design
of repeating the Sicilian Vespers, and the panic which it was Bonaparte's object to
inspire instantly followed. The Government threw themselves upon his mercy.
Bonaparte pretended that he desired no more than to establish a popular government in
Venice in the place of the oligarchy. His terms were accepted. The Senate consented to
abrogate the ancient Constitution of the Republic, and to introduce a French garrison
into Venice. On the 12th of May the Grand Council voted its own dissolution. Peace
was concluded. The public articles of the treaty declared that there should be friendship
between the French and the Venetian Republics; that the sovereignty of Venice should
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reside in the body of the citizens; and that the French garrison should retire so soon as
the new Government announced that it had no further need of its support. Secret
articles stipulated for a money payment, and for the usual surrender of works of art; an
indefinite expression relating to an exchange of territory was intended to cover the
surrender of the Venetian mainland, and the union of Bologna and Ferrara with what
remained of Venice. The friendship and alliance of France, which Bonaparte had been
so anxious to bestow on Venice, were now to bear their fruit. "I shall do everything in
my power," he wrote to the new Government of Venice, "to give you proof of the great
desire I have to see your liberty take root, and to see this unhappy Italy, freed from the
rule of the stranger, at length take its place with glory on the scene of the world, and
resume, among the great nations, the rank to which nature, destiny, and its own
position call it." This was for Venice; for the French Directory Bonaparte had a very
different tale. "I had several motives," he wrote (May 19), "in concluding the treaty:-to
enter the city without difficulty; to have the arsenal and all else in our possession, in
order to take from it whatever we needed, under pretext of the secret articles; ... to
evade the odium attaching to the Preliminaries of Leoben; to furnish pretexts for them,
and to facilitate their execution."
As the first fruits of the Venetian alliance, Bonaparte seized upon Corfu and the other
Ionian Islands. "You will start," he wrote to General Gentili, "as quickly and as secretly
as possible, and take possession of all the Venetian establishments in the Levant.... If
the inhabitants should be inclined for independence, you should flatter their tastes, and
in all your proclamations you should not fail to allude to Greece, Athens, and Sparta."
This was to be the French share in the spoil. Yet even now, though stripped of its
islands, its coasts, and its ancient Italian territory, Venice might still have remained a
prominent city in Italy. It was sacrificed in order to gain the Rhenish Provinces for
France. Bonaparte had returned to the neighbourhood of Milan, and received the
Austrian envoy, De Gallo, at the villa of Montebello. Wresting a forced meaning from
the Preliminaries of Leoben, Bonaparte claimed the frontier of the Rhine, offering to
Austria not only the territory of Venice upon the mainland, but the city of Venice itself.
De Gallo yielded. Whatever causes subsequently prolonged the negotiation, no trace of
honour or pity in Bonaparte led him even to feign a reluctance to betray Venice. "We
have to-day had our first conference on the definitive treaty," he wrote to the Directory,
on the night of the 26th of May, "and have agreed to present the following
propositions: the line of the Rhine for France; Salzburg, Passau for the Emperor; ... the
maintenance of the Germanic Body; ... Venice for the Emperor. Venice," he continued,
"which has been in decadence since the discovery of the Cape of Good Hope and the
rise of Trieste and Ancona, can scarcely survive the blows we have just struck. With a
cowardly and helpless population in no way fit for liberty, without territory and without
rivers, it is but natural that she should go to those to whom we give the mainland."
Thus was Italy to be freed from foreign intervention; and thus was Venice to be
regenerated by the friendship of France!
[Genoa.]
In comparison with the fate preparing for Venice, the sister-republic of Genoa met with
generous treatment. A revolutionary movement, long prepared by the French envoy,
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overthrew the ancient oligarchical Government; but democratic opinion and French
sympathies did not extend below the middle classes of the population; and, after the
Government had abandoned its own cause, the charcoal-burners and dock-labourers
rose in its defence, and attacked the French party with the cry of "Viva Maria," and
with figures of the Virgin fastened to their hats, in the place where their opponents
wore the French tricolour. Religious fanaticism won the day; the old Government was
restored, and a number of Frenchmen who had taken part in the conflict were thrown
into prison. The imprisonment of the Frenchmen gave Bonaparte a pretext for
intervention. He disclaimed all desire to alter the Government, and demanded only the
liberation of his countrymen and the arrest of the enemies of France. But the overthrow
of the oligarchy had been long arranged with Faypoult, the French envoy; and Genoa
received a democratic constitution which place the friends of France in power (June 5).
[France in 1797.]
While Bonaparte, holding Court in the Villa of Montebello, continued to negotiate with
Austria upon the basis of the Preliminaries of Leoben, events took place in France
which offered him an opportunity of interfering directly in the government of the
Republic. The elections which were to replace one-third of the members of the
Legislature took place in the spring of 1797. The feeling of the country was now much
the same as it had been in 1795, when a large Royalist element was returned for those
seats in the Councils which the Convention had not reserved for its own members.
France desired a more equitable and a more tolerant rule. The Directory had indeed
allowed the sanguinary laws against non-juring priests and returning emigrants to
remain unenforced; but the spirit and traditions of official Jacobinism were still active
in the Government. The Directors themselves were all regicides; the execution of the
King was still celebrated by a national fête; offices, great and small, were held by men
who had risen in the Revolution; the whole of the old gentry of France was excluded
from participation in public life. It was against this revolutionary class-rule, against a
system which placed the country as much at the mercy of a few directors and generals
as it had been at the mercy of the Conventional Committee, that the elections of 1797
were a protest. Along with certain Bourbonist conspirators, a large majority of men
were returned who, though described as Royalists, were in fact moderate
Constitutionalists, and desired only to undo that part of the Revolution which excluded
whole classes of the nation from public life. [60]
Such a party in the legislative body naturally took the character of an Opposition to the
more violent section of the Directory. The Director retiring in 1797 was replaced by the
Constitutionalist Barthélemy, negotiator of the treaty of Basle; Carnot, who continued
in office, took part with the Opposition, justly fearing that the rule of the Directory
would soon amount to nothing more than the rule of Bonaparte himself. The first
debates in the new Chamber arose upon the laws relating to emigrants; the next, upon
Bonaparte's usurpation of sovereign power in Italy. On the 23rd of June a motion for
information on the affairs of Venice and Genoa was brought forward in the Council of
Five Hundred. Dumolard, the mover, complained of the secrecy of Bonaparte's action,
of the contempt shown by him to the Assembly, of his tyrannical and un-republican
interference with the institutions of friendly States. No resolution was adopted by the
Assembly; but the mere fact that the Assembly had listened to a hostile criticism of his
own actions was sufficient ground in Bonaparte's eyes to charge it with Royalism and
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with treason. Three of the Directors, Barras, Rewbell, and Laréveillère, had already
formed the project of overpowering the Assembly by force. Bonaparte's own interests
led him to offer them his support. If the Constitutional party gained power, there was
an end to his own unshackled rule in Italy; if the Bourbonists succeeded, a different
class of men would hold all the honours of the State. However feeble the Government
of the Directory, its continuance secured his own present ascendency, and left him the
hope of gaining supreme power when the public could tolerate the Directory no longer.
The fate of the Assembly was sealed. On the anniversary of the capture of the Bastille,
Bonaparte issued a proclamation to his army declaring the Republic to be threatened by
Royalist intrigues. A banquet was held, and the officers and soldiers of every division
signed addresses to the Directory full of threats and fury against conspiring aristocrats.
"Indignation is at its height in the army," wrote Bonaparte to the Government; "the
soldiers are asking with loud cries whether they are to be rewarded by assassination on
their return home, as it appears all patriots are to be so dealt with. The peril is
increasing every day, and I think, citizen Directors, you must decide to act one way or
other." The Directors had no difficulty in deciding after such an exhortation as this; but,
as soon as Bonaparte had worked up their courage, he withdrew into the background,
and sent General Augereau, a blustering Jacobin, to Paris, to risk the failure or bear the
odium of the crime. Augereau received the military command of the capital; the air was
filled with rumours of an impending blow; but neither the majority in the Councils nor
the two threatened Directors, Carnot and Barthélemy, knew how to take measures of
defence. On the night of the 3rd September (17 Fructidor) the troops of Augereau
surrounded the Tuileries. Barthélemy was seized at the Luxembourg; Carnot fled for
his life; the members of the Councils, marching in procession to the Tuileries early the
next morning, were arrested or dispersed by the soldiers. Later in the day a minority of
the Councils was assembled to ratify the measures determined upon by Augereau and
the three Directors. Fifty members of the Legislature, and the writers, proprietors, and
editors of forty-two journals, were sentenced to exile; the elections of forty-eight
departments were annulled; the laws against priests and emigrants were renewed; and
the Directory was empowered to suppress all journals at its pleasure. This coup d'état
was described as the suppression of a Royalist conspiracy. It was this, but it was
something more. It was the suppression of all Constitutional government, and all but
the last step to the despotism of the chief of the army.
The effect of the movement was instantly felt in the negotiations with Austria and with
England. Lord Malmesbury was now again in France, treating for peace with fair hopes
of success, since the Preliminaries of Leoben had removed England's opposition to the
cession of the Netherlands, the discomfiture of the moderate party in the Councils
brought his mission to an abrupt end. Austria, on the other hand, had prolonged its
negotiations because Bonaparte claimed Mantua and the Rhenish Provinces in addition
to the cessions agreed upon at Leoben. Count Ludwig Cobenzl, Austrian ambassador at
St. Petersburg, who had protected his master's interests only too well in the last
partition of Poland, was now at the head of the plenipotentiaries in Italy, endeavouring
to bring Bonaparte back to the terms fixed in the Preliminaries, or to gain additional
territory for Austria in Italy. The Jacobin victory at Paris depressed the Austrians as
much as it elated the French leader. Bonaparte was resolved on concluding a peace that
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should be all his own, and this was only possible by anticipating an invasion of
Germany, about to be undertaken by Augereau at the head of the Army of the Rhine. It
was to this personal ambition of Bonaparte that Venice was sacrificed. The Directors
were willing that Austria should receive part of the Venetian territory: they forbade the
proposed cession of Venice itself. Within a few weeks more, the advance of the Army
of the Rhine would have enabled France to dictate its own terms; but no consideration
either for France or for Italy could induce Bonaparte to share the glory of the Peace
with another. On the 17th of October he signed the final treaty of Campo Formio,
which gave France the frontier of the Rhine, and made both the Venetian territory
beyond the Adige and Venice itself the property of the Emperor. For a moment it
seemed that the Treaty might be repudiated at Vienna as well as at Paris. Thugut
protested against it, because it surrendered Mantua and the Rhenish Provinces without
gaining for Austria the Papal Legations; and he drew up the ratification only at the
absolute command of the Emperor. The Directory, on the other hand, condemned the
cession of Venice. But their fear of Bonaparte and their own bad conscience left them
impotent accessories of his treachery; and the French nation at large was too delighted
with the peace to resent its baser conditions. [61]
By the public articles of the Treaty of Campo Formio, the Emperor ceded to France the
Austrian possessions in Lombardy and in the Netherlands, and agreed to the
establishment of a Cisalpine Republic, formed out of Austrian Lombardy, the Venetian
territory west of the Adige, and the districts hitherto composing the new Cispadane
State. France took the Ionian Islands, Austria the City of Venice, with Istria and
Dalmatia, and the Venetian mainland east of the Adige. For the conclusion of peace
between France and the Holy Roman Empire, it was agreed that a Congress should
meet at Rastadt; but a secret article provided that the Emperor should use his efforts to
gain for France the whole left bank of the Rhine, except a tract including the Prussian
Duchies of Cleve and Guelders. With humorous duplicity the French Government,
which had promised Prussia the Bishopric of Münster in return for this very district,
now pledged itself to Austria that Prussia should receive no extension whatever, and
affected to exclude the Prussian Duchies from the Rhenish territory which was to be
made over to France. Austria was promised the independent Bishopric of Salzburg, and
that portion of Bavaria which lies between the Inn and the Salza. The secular princes
dispossessed in the Rhenish Provinces were to be compensated in the interior of the
Empire by a scheme framed in concert with France.
The immense advantages which the Treaty of Campo Formio gave to France-its
extension over the Netherlands and the Rhenish Provinces, and the virtual annexation
of Lombardy, Modena, and the Papal Legations under the form of a client
republic-were not out of proportion to its splendid military successes. Far otherwise
was it with Austria. With the exception of the Archduke's campaign of 1796, the
warfare of the last three years had brought Austria nothing but a series of disasters; yet
Austria gained by the Treaty of Campo Formio as much as it lost. In the place of the
distant Netherlands and of Milan it gained, in Venice and Dalmatia, a territory touching
its own, nearly equal to the Netherlands and Milan together in population, and so
situated as to enable Austria to become one of the naval Powers of the Mediterranean.
The price which Austria paid was the abandonment of Germany, a matter which, in
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spite of Thugut's protests, disturbed the Court of Vienna as little as the betrayal of
Venice disturbed Bonaparte. The Rhenish Provinces were surrendered to the stranger;
German districts were to be handed over to compensate the ejected Sovereigns of
Holland and of Modena; the internal condition and order of the Empire were to be
superseded by one framed not for the purpose of benefiting Germany, but for the
purpose of extending the influence of France.
[Policy of Bonaparte.]
As defenders of Germany, both Prussia and Austria had been found wanting. The latter
Power seemed to have reaped in Italy the reward of its firmness in prolonging the war.
Bonaparte ridiculed the men who, in the earlier spirit of the Revolution, desired to
found a freer political system in Europe upon the ruins of Austria's power. "I have not
drawn my support in Italy," he wrote to Talleyrand (Oct. 7), "from the love of the
peoples for liberty and equality, or at least but a very feeble support. The real support
of the army of Italy has been its own discipline, ... above all, our promptitude in
repressing malcontents and punishing those who declared against us. This is history;
what I say in my proclamations and speeches is a romance.... If we return to the foreign
policy of 1793, we shall do so knowing that a different policy has brought us success,
and that we have no longer the great masses of 1793 to enrol in our armies, nor the
support of an enthusiasm which has its day and does not return." Austria might well,
for the present, be left in some strength, and France was fortunate to have so dangerous
an enemy off her hands. England required the whole forces of the Republic. "The
present situation," wrote Bonaparte, after the Peace of Campo Formio, "offers us a
good chance. We must set all our strength upon the sea; we must destroy England; and
the Continent is at our feet."
[Battles of St. Vincent, Feb. 14, 1797, and Camperdown, Oct. 6.]
It had been the natural hope of the earlier Republicans that the Spanish and the Dutch
navies, if they could be brought to the side of France, would make France superior to
Great Britain as a maritime Power. The conquest of Holland had been planned by
Carnot as the first step towards an invasion of England. For a while these plans seemed
to be approaching their fulfilment, Holland was won; Spain first made peace, and then
entered into alliance with the Directory (Aug. 1796). But each increase in the naval
forces of the Republic only gave the admirals of Great Britain new material to destroy.
The Spanish fleet was beaten by Jarvis off St. Vincent; even the mutiny of the British
squadrons at Spithead and the Nore, in the spring and summer of 1797, caused no
change in the naval situation in the North Sea. Duncan, who was blockading the Dutch
fleet in the Texel when his own squadron joined the mutineers, continued the blockade
with one ship beside his own, signalling all the while as if the whole fleet were at his
back; until the misused seamen, who had lately turned their guns upon the Thames,
returned to the admiral, and earned his forgiveness by destroying the Dutch at
Camperdown as soon as they ventured out of shelter.
It is doubtful whether at any time after his return from Italy Bonaparte seriously
entertained the project of invading England. The plan was at any rate soon abandoned,
and the preparations, which caused great alarm in the English coast-towns, were
continued only for the purpose of disguising Bonaparte's real design of an attack upon
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Egypt. From the beginning of his career Bonaparte's thoughts had turned towards the
vast and undefended East. While still little known, he had asked the French
Government to send him to Constantinople to organise the Turkish army; as soon as
Venice fell into his hands, he had seized the Ionian Islands as the base for a future
conquest of the Levant. Every engagement that confirmed the superiority of England
upon the western seas gave additional reason for attacking her where her power was
most precarious, in the East. Bonaparte knew that Alexander had conquered the
country of the Indus by a land-march from the Mediterranean, and this was perhaps all
the information which he possessed regarding the approaches to India; but it was
enough to fix his mind upon the conquest of Egypt and Syria, as the first step towards
the destruction of the Asiatic Empire of England. Mingled with the design upon India
was a dream of overthrowing the Mohammedan Government of Turkey, and attacking
Austria from the East with an army drawn from the liberated Christian races of the
Ottoman Empire. The very vagueness of a scheme of Eastern conquest made it the
more attractive to Bonaparte's genius and ambition. Nor was there any inclination on
the part of the Government to detain the general at home. The Directory, little
concerned with the real merits or dangers of the enterprise, consented to Bonaparte's
project of an attack upon Egypt, thankful for any opportunity of loosening the grasp
which was now closing so firmly upon themselves.
CHAPTER IV.
The public articles of the Treaty of Campo Formio contained only the terms which had
been agreed upon by France and Austria in relation to Italy and the Netherlands: the
conditions of peace between France and the Germanic Body, which had been secretly
arranged between France and the two leading Powers, were referred by a diplomatic
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fiction to a Congress that was to assemble at Rastadt. Accordingly, after Prussia and
Austria had each signed an agreement abandoning the Rhenish Provinces, the Congress
was duly summoned. As if in mockery of his helpless countrymen, the Emperor
informed the members of the Diet that "in unshaken fidelity to the great principle of the
unity and indivisibility of the German Empire, they were to maintain the common
interests of the Fatherland with noble conscientiousness and German steadfastness; and
so, united with their imperial head, to promote a just and lasting peace, founded upon
the basis of the integrity of the Empire and of its Constitution." [62] Thus the Congress
was convoked upon the pretence of preserving what the two greater States had
determined to sacrifice; while its real object, the suppression of the ecclesiastical
principalities and the curtailment of Bavaria, was studiously put out of sight.
The Congress was composed of two French envoys, of the representatives of Prussia
and Austria, and of a committee, numbering with their secretaries seventy-four persons,
appointed by the Diet of Ratisbon. But the recognised negotiators formed only a small
part of the diplomatists who flocked to Rastadt in the hope of picking up something
from the wreck of the Empire. Every petty German sovereign, even communities which
possessed no political rights at all, thought it necessary to have an agent on the spot, in
order to filch, if possible, some trifling advantage from a neighbour, or to catch the first
rumour of a proposed annexation. It was the saturnalia of the whole tribe of busybodies
and intriguers who passed in Germany for men of state. They spied upon one another;
they bribed the secretaries and doorkeepers, they bribed the very cooks and coachmen,
of the two omnipotent French envoys. Of the national humiliation of Germany, of the
dishonour attaching to the loss of entire provinces and the reorganisation of what
remained at the bidding of the stranger, there seems to have been no sense in the
political circles of the day. The collapse of the Empire was viewed rather as a subject
of merriment. A gaiety of life and language prevailed, impossible among men who did
not consider themselves as the spectators of a comedy. Cobenzl, the chief Austrian
plenipotentiary, took his travels in a fly, because his mistress, the citoyenne Hyacinthe,
had decamped with all his carriages and horses. A witty but profane pamphlet was
circulated, in which the impending sacrifice of the Empire was described in language
borrowed from the Gospel narrative, Prussia taking the part of Judas Iscariot, Austria
that of Pontius Pilate, the Congress itself being the chief priests and Pharisees
assembling that they may take the Holy Roman Empire by craft, while the army of the
Empire figures as the "multitude who smote upon their breasts and departed." In the
utter absence of any German pride or patriotism the French envoys not only obtained
the territory that they required, but successfully embroiled the two leading Powers with
one another, and accustomed the minor States to look to France for their own
promotion at the cost of their neighbours. The contradictory pledges which the French
Government had given to Austria and to Prussia caused it no embarrassment. To
deceive one of the two powers was to win the gratitude of the other; and the Directory
determined to fulfil its engagement to Prussia at the expense of the bishoprics, and to
ignore what it had promised to Austria at the expense of Bavaria.
[Rhenish Provinces.]
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A momentary difficulty arose upon the opening of the Congress, when it appeared that,
misled by the Emperor's protestations, the Diet had only empowered its Committee to
treat upon the basis of the integrity of the Empire (Dec. 9). The French declined to
negotiate until the Committee had procured full powers: and the prospects of the
integrity of the Empire were made clear enough a few days later by the entry of the
French into Mainz, and the formal organisation of the Rhenish Provinces as four
French Departments. In due course a decree of the Diet arrived, empowering the
Committee to negotiate at their discretion: and for some weeks after the inhabitants of
the Rhenish Provinces had been subjected to the laws, the magistracy, and the taxation
of France, the Committee deliberated upon the proposal for their cession with as much
minuteness and as much impartiality as if it had been a point of speculative philosophy.
At length the French put an end to the tedious trifling, and proceeded to the question of
compensation for the dispossessed lay Princes. This they proposed to effect by means
of the disestablishment, or secularisation, of ecclesiastical States in the interior of
Germany. Prussia eagerly supported the French proposal, both with a view to the
annexation of the great Bishopric of Münster, and from ancient hostility to the
ecclesiastical States as instruments and allies of Catholic Austria. The Emperor
opposed the destruction of his faithful dependents; the ecclesiastical princes themselves
raised a bitter outcry, and demonstrated that the fall of their order would unloose the
keystone of the political system of Europe; but they found few friends. If Prussia
coveted the great spoils of Münster, the minor sovereigns, as a rule, wore just as eager
for the convents and abbeys that broke the continuity of their own territories: only the
feeblest of all the members of the Empire, the counts, the knights, and the cities, felt a
respectful sympathy for their ecclesiastical neighbours, and foresaw that in a system of
annexation their own turn would come next. The principle of secularisation was
accepted by the Congress without much difficulty, all the energy of debate being
reserved for the discussion of details: arrangements which were to transfer a few miles
of ground and half a dozen custom-houses from some bankrupt ecclesiastic to some
French-bought duke excited more interest in Germany than the loss of the Rhenish
Provinces, and the subjection of a tenth part of the German nation to a foreign rule.
One more question was unexpectedly presented to the Congress. After proclaiming for
six years that the Rhine was the natural boundary of France, the French Government
discovered that a river cannot be a military frontier at all. Of what service, urged the
French plenipotentiaries, were Strasburg and Mainz, so long as they were commanded
by the guns on the opposite bank? If the Rhine was to be of any use to France, France
must be put in possession of the fortresses of Kehl and Castel upon the German side.
Outrageous as such a demand appears, it found supporters among the venal politicians
of the smaller Courts, and furnished the Committee with material for arguments that
extended over four months. But the policy of Austria was now taking a direction that
rendered the resolutions of the Congress of very little importance. It had become clear
that France was inclining to an alliance with Prussia, and that the Bavarian annexations
promised to Austria by the secret articles of Campo Formio were to be withheld. Once
convinced, by the failure of a private negotiation in Alsace, that the French would
neither be content with their gains of 1797, nor permit Austria to extend its territory in
Italy, Thugut determined upon a renewal of the war. [63] In spite of a powerful
opposition at Court, Thugut's stubborn will still controlled the fortune of Austria: and
the aggressions of the French Republic in Switzerland and the Papal States, at the
moment when it was dictating terms of peace to the Empire, gave only too much cause
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for the formation of a new European league.
At the close of the last century there was no country where the spirit of Republican
freedom was so strong, or where the conditions of life were so level, as in Switzerland;
its inhabitants, however, were far from enjoying complete political equality. There
were districts which stood in the relation of subject dependencies to one or other of the
ruling cantons: the Pays de Vaud was governed by an officer from Berne; the valley of
the Ticino belonged to Uri; and in most of the sovereign cantons themselves authority
was vested in a close circle of patrician families. Thus, although Switzerland was free
from the more oppressive distinctions of caste, and the Governments, even where not
democratic, were usually just and temperate, a sufficiently large class was excluded
from political rights to give scope to an agitation which received its impulse from Paris.
It was indeed among communities advanced in comfort and intelligence, and divided
from those who governed them by no great barrier of wealth and prestige, that the
doctrines of the Revolution found a circulation which they could never gain among the
hereditary serfs of Prussia or the priest-ridden peasantry of the Roman States. As early
as the year 1792 a French army had entered the territory of Geneva, in order to
co-operate with the democratic party in the city. The movement was, however, checked
by the resolute action of the Bernese Senate; and the relations of France to the Federal
Government had subsequently been kept upon a friendly footing by the good sense of
Barthélemy, the French ambassador at Berne, and the discretion with which the Swiss
Government avoided every occasion of offence. On the conquest of Northern Italy,
Bonaparte was brought into direct connection with Swiss affairs by a reference of
certain points in dispute to his authority as arbitrator. Bonaparte solved the difficulty by
annexing the district of the Valteline to the Cisalpine Republic; and from that time he
continued in communication with the Swiss democratic leaders on the subject of a
French intervention in Switzerland, the real purpose of which was to secure the treasure
of Berne, and to organise a government, like that of Holland and the Cisalpine
Republic, in immediate dependence upon France.
At length the moment for armed interference arrived. On the 15th December, 1797, a
French force entered the Bishopric of Basle, and gave the signal for insurrection in the
Pays de Vaud. The Senate of Berne summoned the Diet of the Confederacy to provide
for the common defence: the oath of federation was renewed, and a decree was passed
calling out the Federal army. It was now announced by the French that they would
support the Vaudois revolutionary party, if attacked. The Bernese troops, however,
advanced; and the bearer of a flag of truce having been accidentally killed, war was
declared between the French Republic and the Government of Berne. Democratic
movements immediately followed in the northern and western cantons; the Bernese
Government attempted to negotiate with the French invaders, but discovered that no
terms would be accepted short of the entire destruction of the existing Federal
Constitution. Hostilities commenced; and the Bernese troops, supported by contingents
from most of the other cantons, offered a brave but ineffectual resistance to the advance
of the French, who entered the Federal capital on the 6th of March, 1798. The treasure
of Berne, amounting to about £800,000, accumulated by ages of thrift and good
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management, was seized in order to provide for Bonaparte's next campaign, and for a
host of voracious soldiers and contractors. A system of robbery and extortion, more
shameless even than that practised in Italy, was put in force against the cantonal
governments, against the monasteries, and against private individuals. In compensation
for the material losses inflicted upon the country, the new Helvetic Republic, one and
indivisible, was proclaimed at Aarau. It conferred an equality of political rights upon
all natives of Switzerland, and substituted for the ancient varieties of cantonal
sovereignty a single national government, composed, like that of France, of a Directory
and two Councils of Legislature.
The towns and districts which had been hitherto excluded from a share in government
welcomed a change which seemed to place them on a level with their former superiors:
the mountain-cantons fought with traditional heroism in defence of the liberties which
they had inherited from their fathers; but they were compelled, one after another, to
submit to the overwhelming force of France, and to accept the new constitution. Yet,
even now, when peace seemed to have been restored, and the whole purpose of France
attained, the tyranny and violence of the invaders exhausted the endurance of a spirited
people. The magistrates of the Republic were expelled from office at the word of a
French Commission; hostages were seized; at length an oath of allegiance to the new
order was required as a condition for the evacuation of Switzerland by the French
army. Revolt broke out in Unterwalden, and a handful of peasants met the French army
at the village of Stanz, near the eastern shore of the Lake of Lucerne (Sept. 8). There
for three days they fought with unyielding courage. Their resistance inflamed the
French to a cruel vengeance; slaughtered families and burning villages renewed, in this
so-called crusade of liberty, the savagery of ancient war.
Intrigues at Rome paved the way for a French intervention in the affairs of the Papal
States, coincident in time with the invasion of Switzerland. The residence of the French
ambassador at Rome, Joseph Bonaparte, was the centre of a democratic agitation. The
men who moved about him were in great part strangers from the north of Italy, but they
found adherents in the middle and professional classes in Rome itself, although the
mass of the poor people, as well as the numerous body whose salaries or profits
depended upon ecclesiastical expenditure, were devoted to the priests and the Papacy.
In anticipation of disturbances, the Government ordered companies of soldiers to patrol
the city. A collision occurred on the 28th December, 1797, between the patrols and a
band of revolutionists, who, being roughly handled by the populace as well as by the
soldiers, made their way for protection to the courtyard of the Palazzo Corsini, where
Joseph Bonaparte resided. Here, in the midst of a confused struggle, General Duphot, a
member of the Embassy, was shot by a Papal soldier. [64]
The French had now the pretext against the Papal Government which they desired.
Joseph Bonaparte instantly left the city, and orders were sent to Berthier, chief of the
staff in northern Italy, to march upon Rome. Berthier advanced amid the acclamations
of the towns and the curses of the peasantry, and entered Rome on the 10th of
February, 1798. Events had produced in the capital a much stronger inclination towards
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change than existed on the approach of Bonaparte a year before. The treaty of
Tolentino had shaken the prestige of Papal authority; the loss of so many well-known
works of art, the imposition of new and unpopular taxes, had excited as much hatred
against the defeated government as against the extortionate conquerors; even among
the clergy and their retainers the sale of a portion of the Church-lands and the
curtailment of the old Papal splendours had produced alienation and discontent. There
existed too within the Italian Church itself a reforming party, lately headed by Ricci,
bishop of Pistoia, which claimed a higher degree of independence for the clergy, and
condemned the assumption of universal authority by the Roman See. The ill-judged
exercise of the Pope's temporal power during the last six years had gained many
converts to the opinion that the head of the Church would best perform his office if
emancipated from a worldly sovereignty, and restored to his original position of the
first among the bishops. Thus, on its approach to Rome, the Republican army found the
city ripe for revolution. On the 15th of February an excited multitude assembled in the
Forum, and, after planting the tree of liberty in front of the Capitol, renounced the
authority of the Pope, and declared that the Roman people constituted itself a free
Republic. The resolution was conveyed to Berthier, who recognised the Roman
Commonwealth, and made a procession through the city with the solemnity of an
ancient triumph. The Pope shut himself up in the Vatican. His Swiss guard was
removed, and replaced by one composed of French soldiers, at whose hands the
Pontiff, now in his eighty-first year, suffered unworthy insults. He was then required to
renounce his temporal power, and, upon his refusal, was removed to Tuscany, and
afterwards beyond the Alps to Valence, where in 1799 he died, attended by a solitary
ecclesiastic.
In the liberated capital a course of spoliation began, more thorough and systematic than
any that the French had yet effected. The riches of Rome brought all the brokers and
contractors of Paris to the spot. The museums, the Papal residence, and the palaces of
many of the nobility were robbed of every article that could be moved; the very fixtures
were cut away, when worth the carriage. On the first meeting of the National Institute
in the Vatican it was found that the doors had lost their locks; and when, by order of the
French, masses were celebrated in the churches in expiation of the death of Duphot, the
patrols who were placed at the gates to preserve order rushed in and seized the sacred
vessels. Yet the general robbery was far less the work of the army than of the agents
and contractors sent by the Government. In the midst of endless peculation the soldiers
were in want of their pay and their food. A sense of the dishonour done to France arose
at length in the subordinate ranks of the army; and General Massena, who succeeded
Berthier, was forced to quit his command in consequence of the protests of the soldiery
against a system to which Massena had conspicuously given his personal sanction. It
remained to embody the recovered liberties of Rome in a Republican Constitution,
which was, as a matter of course, a reproduction of the French Directory and Councils
of Legislature, under the practical control of the French general in command. What
Rome had given to the Revolution in the fashion of classical expressions was now
more than repaid. The Directors were styled Consuls; the divisions of the Legislature
were known as the Senate and the Tribunate; the Prætorship and the Quæstorship were
recalled to life in the Courts of Justice. That the new era might not want its classical
memorial, a medal was struck, with the image and superscription of Roman heroism, to
"Berthier, the restorer of the city," and to "Gaul, the salvation of the human race."
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It was in the midst of these enterprises in Switzerland and Central Italy that the
Directory assembled the forces which Bonaparte was to lead to the East. The port of
Expedition to embarkation was Toulon; and there, on the 9th of May, 1798, Bonaparte
took the command of the most formidable armament that had ever left the French
shores. Great Britain was still but feebly represented in the Mediterranean, a
detachment from St. Vincent's fleet at Cadiz, placed under the command of Nelson,
being the sole British force in these waters. Heavy reinforcements were at hand; but in
the meantime Nelson had been driven by stress of weather from his watch upon
Toulon. On the 19th of May the French armament put out to sea, its destination being
still kept secret from the soldiers themselves. It appeared before Malta on the 16th of
June. By the treachery of the knights Bonaparte was put in possession of this
stronghold, which he could not even have attempted to besiege. After a short delay the
voyage was resumed, and the fleet reached Alexandria without having fallen in with
the English, who had now received their reinforcements. The landing was safely
effected, and Alexandria fell at the first assault. After five days the army advanced
upon Cairo. At the foot of the Pyramids the Mameluke cavalry vainly threw themselves
upon Bonaparte's soldiers. They were repulsed with enormous loss on their own side
and scarcely any on that of the French. Their camp was stormed; Cairo was occupied;
and there no longer existed a force in Egypt capable of offering any serious resistance
to the invaders.
But the fortune which had brought Bonaparte's army safe into the Egyptian capital was
destined to be purchased by the utter destruction of his fleet. Nelson had passed the
French in the night, when, after much perplexity, he decided on sailing in the direction
of Egypt. Arriving at Alexandria before his prey, he had hurried off in an imaginary
pursuit to Rhodes and Crete. At length he received information which led him to visit
Alexandria a second time. He found the French fleet, numbering thirteen ships of the
line and four frigates, at anchor in Aboukir Bay. [65] His own fleet was slightly inferior
in men and guns, but he entered battle with a presentiment of the completeness of his
victory. Other naval battles have been fought with larger forces; no destruction was
ever so complete as that of the Battle of the Nile (August 1). Two ships of the line and
two frigates, out of the seventeen sail that met Nelson, alone escaped from his hands.
Of eleven thousand officers and men, nine thousand were taken prisoners, or perished
in the engagement. The army of Bonaparte was cut off from all hope of support or
return; the Republic was deprived of communication with its best troops and its
greatest general.
[Coalition of 1798.]
A coalition was now gathering against France superior to that of 1793 in the support of
Russia and the Ottoman Empire, although Spain was now on the side of the Republic,
and Prussia, in spite of the warnings of the last two years, refused to stir from its
neutrality. The death of the Empress Catherine, and the accession of Paul, had caused a
most serious change in the prospects of Europe. Hitherto the policy of the Russian
Court had been to embroil the Western Powers with one another, and to confine its
efforts against the French Republic to promises and assurances; with Paul, after an
interval of total reaction, the professions became realities. [66] No monarch entered so
cordially into Pitt's schemes for a renewal of the European league; no ally had joined
the English minister with a sincerity so like his own. On the part of the Ottoman
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Government, the pretences of friendship with which Bonaparte disguised the
occupation of Egypt were taken at their real worth. War was declared by the Porte; and
a series of negotiations, carried on during the autumn of 1798, united Russia, England,
Turkey, and Naples in engagements of mutual support against the French Republic.
A Russian army set out on its long march towards the Adriatic: the levies of Austria
prepared for a campaign in the spring of 1799; but to the English Government every
moment that elapsed before actual hostilities was so much time given to uncertainties;
and the man who had won the Battle of the Nile ridiculed the precaution which had
hitherto suffered the French to spread their intrigues through Italy, and closed the ports
of Sicily and Naples to his own most urgent needs. Towards the end of September,
Nelson appeared in the Bay of Naples, and was received with a delirium that recalled
the most effusive scenes in the French Revolution. [67] In the city of Naples, as in the
kingdom generally, the poorest classes were the fiercest enemies of reform, and the
steady allies of the Queen and the priesthood against that section of the better-educated
classes which had begun to hope for liberty. The system of espionage and persecution
with which the sister of Marie Antoinette avenged upon her own subjects the sufferings
of her kindred had grown more oppressive with every new victory of the Revolution. In
the summer of 1798 there were men languishing for the fifth year in prison, whose
offences had never been investigated, and whose relatives were not allowed to know
whether they were dead or alive. A mode of expression, a fashion of dress, the word of
an informer, consigned innocent persons to the dungeon, with the possibility of torture.
In the midst of this tyranny of suspicion, in the midst of a corruption which made the
naval and military forces of the kingdom worse than useless, King Ferdinand and his
satellites were unwearied in their theatrical invocations of the Virgin and St. Januarius
against the assailants of divine right and the conquerors of Rome. A Court cowardly
almost beyond the example of Courts, a police that had trained every Neapolitan to
look upon his neighbour as a traitor, an administration that had turned one of the
hardiest races in Europe into soldiers of notorious and disgraceful cowardice-such were
the allies whom Nelson, ill-fitted for politics by his sailor-like inexperience and facile
vanity, heroic in his tenderness and fidelity, in an evil hour encouraged to believe
themselves invincible because they possessed his own support. On the 14th of
November, 1798, King Ferdinand published a proclamation, which, without declaring
war on the French, announced that the King intended to occupy the Papal States and
restore the Papal government. The manifesto disclaimed all intention of conquest, and
offered a free pardon to all compromised persons. Ten days later the Neapolitan army
crossed the frontier, led by the Austrian general, Mack, who passed among his admirers
for the greatest soldier in Europe. [68]
The mass of the French troops, about twelve thousand in number, lay in the
neighbourhood of Ancona; Rome and the intermediate stations were held by small
detachments. Had Mack pushed forward towards the Upper Tiber, his inroad, even if it
failed to crush the separated wings of the French army, must have forced them to
retreat; but, instead of moving with all his strength through Central Italy, Mack led the
bulk of his army upon Rome, where there was no French force capable of making a
stand, and sent weak isolated columns towards the east of the peninsula, where the
French were strong enough to make a good defence. On the approach of the
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Neapolitans to Rome, Championnet, the French commander, evacuated the city,
leaving a garrison in the Castle of St. Angelo, and fell back on Civita Castellana, thirty
miles north of the capital. The King of Naples entered Rome on the 29th November.
The restoration of religion was celebrated by the erection of an immense cross in the
place of the tree of liberty, by the immersion of several Jews in the Tiber, by the
execution of a number of compromised persons whose pardon the King had promised,
and by a threat to shoot one of the sick French soldiers in the hospital for every shot
fired by the guns of St. Angelo. [69] Intelligence was despatched to the exiled Pontiff
of the discomfiture of his enemies. "By help of the divine grace," wrote King
Ferdinand, "and of the most miraculous St. Januarius, we have to-day with our army
entered the sacred city of Rome, so lately profaned by the impious, who now fly
terror-stricken at the sight of the Cross and of my arms. Leave then, your Holiness,
your too modest abode, and on the wings of cherubim, like the virgin of Loreto, come
and descend upon the Vatican, to purify it by your sacred presence." A letter to the
King of Piedmont, who had already been exhorted by Ferdinand to encourage his
peasants to assassinate French soldiers, informed him that "the Neapolitans, guided by
General Mack, had sounded the hour of death to the French, and proclaimed to Europe,
from the summit of the Capitol, that the time of the Kings had come."
The despatches to Piedmont fell into the hands of the enemy, and the usual modes of
locomotion would scarcely have brought Pope Pius to Rome in time to witness the exit
of his deliverer. Ferdinand's rhapsodies were cut short by the news that his columns
advancing into the centre and east of the Papal States had all been beaten or captured.
Mack, at the head of the main army, now advanced to avenge the defeat upon the
French at Civita Castellana and Terni. But his dispositions were as unskilful as ever:
wherever his troops encountered the enemy they were put to the rout; and, as he had
neglected to fortify or secure a single position upon his line of march, his defeat by a
handful of French soldiers on the north of Rome involved the loss of the country almost
up to the gates of Naples. On the first rumour of Mack's reverses the Republican party
at Rome declared for France. King Ferdinand fled; Championnet re-entered Rome, and,
after a few days' delay, advanced into Neapolitan territory. Here, however, he found
himself attacked by an enemy more formidable than the army which had been
organised to expel the French from Italy. The Neapolitan peasantry, who, in soldiers'
uniform and under the orders of Mack, could scarcely be brought within sight of the
French, fought with courage when an appeal to their religious passions collected them
in brigand-like bands under leaders of their own. Divisions of Championnet's army
sustained severe losses; they succeeded, however, in effecting their junction upon the
Volturno; and the stronghold of Gaeta, being defended by regular soldiers and not by
brigands, surrendered to the French at the first summons.
Mack was now concentrating his troops in an entrenched camp before Capua. The
whole country was rising against the invaders; and, in spite of lost battles and
abandoned fortresses, the Neapolitan Government if it had possessed a spark of
courage, might still have overthrown the French army, which numbered only 18,000
men. But the panic and suspicion which the Government had fostered among its
subjects were now avenged upon itself. The cry of treachery was raised on every side.
The Court dreaded a Republican rising; the priests and the populace accused the Court
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of conspiracy with the French; Mack protested that the soldiers were resolved to be
beaten; the soldiers swore that they were betrayed by Mack. On the night of the 21st of
December, the Royal Family secretly went on board Nelson's ship the Vanguard, and
after a short interval they set sail for Palermo, leaving the capital in charge of Prince
Pignatelli, a courtier whom no one was willing to obey. [70] Order was, however,
maintained by a civic guard enrolled by the Municipality, until it became known that
Mack and Pignatelli had concluded an armistice with the French, and surrendered
Capua and the neighbouring towns. Then the populace broke into wild uproar. The
prisons were thrown open; and with the arms taken from the arsenal the lazzaroni
formed themselves into a tumultuous army, along with thousands of desperate men let
loose from the gaols and the galleys. The priests, hearing that negotiations for peace
were opened, raised the cry of treason anew; and, with the watchword of the Queen,
"All the gentlemen are Jacobins; only the people are faithful," they hounded on the
mob to riot and murder. On the morning of January 15th hordes of lazzaroni issued
from the gates to throw themselves upon the French, who were now about nine miles
from the city; others dragged the guns down from the forts to defend the streets. The
Republican party, however, and that considerable body among the upper class which
was made Republican by the chaos into which the Court, with its allies, the priests, and
the populace, had thrown Naples, kept up communication with Championnet, and
looked forward to the entrance of the French as the only means of averting destruction
and massacre. By a stratagem carried out on the night of the 20th they gained
possession of the fort of St. Elmo, while the French were already engaged in a bloody
assault upon the suburbs. On the 23rd Championnet ordered the attack to be renewed.
The conspirators within St. Elmo hoisted the French flag and turned their guns upon the
populace; the fortress of the Carmine was stormed by the French; and, before the last
struggle for life and death commenced in the centre of the city, the leaders of the
lazzaroni listened to words of friendship which Championnet addressed to them in their
own language, and, with the incoherence of a half-savage race, escorted his soldiers
with cries of joy to the Church of St. Januarius, which Championnet promised to
respect and protect.
[Parthenopean Republic.]
Championnet used his victory with a discretion and forbearance rare amongst French
conquerors. He humoured the superstition of the populace; he encouraged the political
hopes of the enlightened. A vehement revulsion of feeling against the fugitive Court
and in favour of Republican government followed the creation of a National Council by
the French general, and his ironical homage to the patron saint. The Kingdom of
Naples was converted into the Parthenopean Republic. New laws, new institutions,
discussed in a representative assembly, excited hopes and interests unknown in Naples
before. But the inevitable incidents of a French occupation, extortion and
impoverishment, with all their bitter effects on the mind of the people, were not long
delayed. In every country district the priests were exciting insurrection. The agents of
the new Government, men with no experience in public affairs, carried confusion
wherever they went. Civil war broke out in fifty different places; and the barbarity of
native leaders of insurrection, like Fra Diavolo, was only too well requited by the
French columns which traversed the districts in revolt.
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The time was ill chosen by the French Government for an extension of the area of
combat to southern Italy. Already the first division of the Russian army, led by
Suvaroff, had reached Moravia, and the Court of Vienna was only awaiting its own
moment for declaring war. So far were the newly-established Governments in Rome
and Naples from being able to assist the French upon the Adige, that the French had to
send troops to Rome and Naples to support the new Governments. The force which the
French could place upon the frontier was inferior to that which two years of preparation
had given to Austria: the Russians, who were expected to arrive in Lombardy in April,
approached with the confidence of men who had given to the French none of their
recent triumphs. Nor among the leaders was personal superiority any longer markedly
on the side of the French, as in the war of the First Coalition. Suvaroff and the
Archduke Charles were a fair match for any of the Republican generals, except
Bonaparte, who was absent in Egypt. The executive of France had deeply declined.
Carnot was in exile; the work of organisation which he had pursued with such energy
and disinterestedness flagged under his mediocre and corrupt successors. Skilful
generals and brave soldiers were never wanting to the Republic; but no single
controlling will, no storm of national passion, inspired the Government with the force
which it had possessed under the Convention, and which returned to it under Napoleon.
A new character was given to the war now breaking out by the inclusion of Switzerland
in the area of combat. In the war of the First Coalition, Switzerland had been neutral
territory; but the events of 1798 had left the French in possession of all Switzerland
west of the Rhine, and an Austrian force subsequently occupied the Grisons. The line
separating the combatants now ran without a break from Mainz to the Adriatic. The
French armies were in continuous communication with one another, and the
movements of each could be modified according to the requirements of the rest. On the
other hand, a disaster sustained at any one point of the line endangered every other
point; for no neutral territory intervened, as in 1796, to check a lateral movement of the
enemy, and to protect the communications of a French army in Lombardy from a
victorious Austrian force in southern Germany. The importance of the Swiss passes in
this relation was understood and even overrated by the French Government; and an
energy was thrown into their mountain warfare which might have produced greater
results upon the plains.
Three armies formed the order of battle on either side. Jourdan held the French
command upon the Rhine; Massena in Switzerland; Scherer, the least capable of the
Republican generals, on the Adige. On the side of the Allies, the Archduke Charles
commanded in southern Germany; in Lombardy the Austrians were led by Kray,
pending the arrival of Suvaroff and his corps; in Switzerland the command was given
to Hotze, a Swiss officer who had gained some distinction in foreign service. It was the
design of the French to push their centre under Massena through the mountains into the
Tyrol, and by a combined attack of the central and the southern army to destroy the
Austrians upon the upper Adige, while Jourdan, also in communication with the centre,
drove the Archduke down the Danube upon Vienna. Early in March the campaign
opened. Massena assailed the Austrian positions east of the head-waters of the Rhine,
and forced back the enemy into the heart of the Orisons. Jourdan crossed the Rhine at
Strasburg, and passed the Black Forest with 40,000 men. His orders were to attack the
Archduke Charles, whatever the Archduke's superiority of force. The French and the
Austrian armies met at Stockach, near the head of the Lake of Constance (March 25).
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Overwhelming numbers gave the Archduke a complete victory. Jourdan was not only
stopped in his advance, but forced to retreat beyond the Rhine. Whatever might be the
fortune of the armies of Switzerland and Italy, all hope of an advance upon Vienna by
the Danube was at an end.
Freed from the invader's presence, the Austrians now spread themselves over Baden,
up to the gates of Rastadt, where, in spite of the war between France and Austria, the
envoys of the minor German States still continued their conferences with the French
agents. On the 28th of April the French envoys, now three in number, were required by
the Austrians to depart within twenty-four hours. An escort, for which they applied,
was refused. Scarcely had their carriages passed through the city gates when they were
attacked by a squadron of Austrian hussars. Two of French envoys the French envoys
were murdered; the third left for dead. Whether this frightful violation of international
law was the mere outrage of a drunken soldiery, as it was represented to be by the
Austrian Government; whether it was to any extent occasioned by superior civil orders,
or connected with French emigrants living in the neighbourhood, remains unknown.
Investigations begun by the Archduke Charles were stopped by the Cabinet, in order
that a more public inquiry might be held by the Diet. This inquiry, however, never took
place. In the year 1804 all papers relating to the Archduke's investigation were
removed by the Government from the military archives. They have never since been
discovered. [71]
The outburst of wrath with which the French people learnt the fate of their envoys
would have cost Austria dear if Austria had now been the losing party in the war; but,
for the present, everything seemed to turn against the Republic. Jourdan had scarcely
been overthrown in Germany before a ruinous defeat at Magnano, on the Adige, drove
back the army of Italy to within a few miles of Milan; while Massena, deprived of the
fruit of his own victories by the disasters of his colleagues, had to abandon the eastern
half of Switzerland, and to retire upon the line of the river Limnat, Lucerne, and the
Gothard. Charles now moved from Germany into Switzerland. Massena fixed his
centre at Zürich, and awaited the Archduke's assault. For five weeks Charles remained
inactive: at length, on the 4th of June, he gave battle. After two days' struggle against
greatly superior forces, Massena was compelled to evacuate Zürich. He retreated,
however, no farther than to the ridge of the Uetliberg, a few miles west of the city; and
here, fortifying his new position, he held obstinately on, while the Austrians established
themselves in the central passes of Switzerland, and disaster after disaster seemed to be
annihilating the French arms in Italy.
Suvaroff, at the head of 17,000 Russians, had arrived in Lombardy in the middle of
April. His first battle was fought, and his first victory won, at the passage of the Adda
on the 25th of April. It was followed by the surrender of Milan and the dissolution of
the Cisalpine Republic. Moreau, who now held the French command, fell back upon
Alessandria, intending to cover both Genoa and Turin; but a sudden movement of
Suvaroff brought the Russians into the Sardinian capital before it was even known to
be in jeopardy. The French general, cut off from the roads over the Alps, threw himself
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upon the Apennines above Genoa, and waited for the army which had occupied Naples,
and which, under the command of Macdonald, was now hurrying to his support,
gathering with it on its march the troops that lay scattered on the south of the Po.
Macdonald moved swiftly through central Italy, and crossed the Apennines above
Pistoia in the beginning of June. His arrival at Modena with 20,000 men threatened to
turn the balance in favour of the French. Suvaroff, aware of his danger, collected all the
troops within reach with the utmost despatch, and pushed eastwards to meet Macdonald
on the Trebbia. Moreau descended from the Apennines in the same direction; but he
had underrated the swiftness of the Russian general; and, before he had advanced over
half the distance, Macdonald was attacked by Suvaroff on the Trebbia, and overthrown
in three days of the most desperate fighting that had been seen in the war (June 18).
[72]
[Naples.]
All southern Italy now rose against the Governments established by the French.
Cardinal Ruffo, with a band of fanatical peasants, known as the Army of the Faith,
made himself master of Apulia and Calabria amid scenes of savage cruelty, and
appeared before Naples, where the lazzaroni were ready to unite with the hordes of the
Faithful in murder and pillage. Confident of support within the city, and assisted by
some English and Russian vessels in the harbour, Ruffo attacked the suburbs of Naples
on the morning of the 13th of June. Massacre and outrage continued within and without
the city for five days. On the morning of the 19th, the Cardinal proposed a suspension
of arms. It was accepted by the Republicans, who were in possession of the forts.
Negotiations followed. On the 23rd conditions of peace were signed by Ruffo on behalf
of the King of Naples, and by the representatives of Great Britain and of Russia in
guarantee for their faithful execution. It was agreed that the Republican garrison should
march out with the honours of war; that their persons and property should be respected;
that those who might prefer to leave the country should be conveyed to Toulon on
neutral vessels; and that all who remained at home should be free from molestation.
[Reign of Terror.]
The garrison did not leave the forts that night. On the following morning, while they
were embarking on board the polaccas which were to take them to Toulon, Nelson's
fleet appeared in the Bay of Naples. Nelson declared that in treating with rebels
Cardinal Ruffo had disobeyed the King's orders, and he pronounced the capitulation
null and void. The polaccas, with the Republicans crowded on board, were attached to
the sterns of the English ships, pending the arrival of King Ferdinand. On the 29th of
June, Admiral Caracciolo, who had taken office under the new Government, and on its
fall had attempted to escape in disguise, was brought a captive before Nelson. Nelson
ordered him to be tried by a Neapolitan court-martial, and, in spite of his old age, his
rank, and his long service to the State, caused him to be hanged from a Neapolitan
ship's yard-arm, and his body to be thrown into the sea. Some days later, King
Ferdinand arrived from Palermo, and Nelson now handed over all his prisoners to the
Bourbon authorities. A reign of terror followed. Innumerable persons were thrown into
prison. Courts-martial, or commissions administering any law that pleased themselves,
sent the flower of the Neapolitan nation to the scaffold. Above a hundred sentences of
death were carried out in Naples itself: confiscation, exile, and imprisonment struck
down thousands of families. It was peculiar to the Neapolitan proscriptions that a
Government with the names of religion and right incessantly upon its lips selected for
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extermination both among men and women those who were most distinguished in
character, in science, and in letters, whilst it chose for promotion and enrichment those
who were known for deeds of savage violence. The part borne by Nelson in this work
of death has left a stain on his glory which time cannot efface. [73]
It was on the advance of the Army of Naples under Macdonald that the French rested
their last hope of recovering Lombardy. The battle of the Trebbia scattered this hope to
the winds, and left it only too doubtful whether France could be saved from invasion.
Suvaroff himself was eager to fall upon Moreau before Macdonald could rally from his
defeat, and to drive him westwards along the coast-road into France. It was a moment
when the fortune of the Republic hung in the scales. Had Suvaroff been permitted to
follow his own counsels, France would probably have seen the remnant of her Italian
armies totally destroyed, and the Russians advancing upon Lyons or Marseilles. The
Republic was saved, as it had been in 1793, by the dissensions of its enemies. It was
not only for the purpose of resisting French aggression that Austria had renewed the
war, but for the purpose of extending its own dominion in Italy. These designs were
concealed from Russia; they were partially made known by Thugut to the British
Ambassador, under the most stringent obligation to secrecy. On the 17th of August,
1799, Lord Minto acquainted his Government with the intentions of the Austrian Court.
"The Emperor proposes to retain Piedmont, and to take all that part of Savoy which is
important in a military view. I have no doubt of his intention to keep Nice also, if he
gets it, which will make the Var his boundary with France. The whole territory of the
Genoese Republic seems to be an object of serious speculation ... The Papal Legations
will, I am persuaded, be retained by the Emperor ... I am not yet master of the designs
on Tuscany." [74] This was the sense in which Austria understood the phrase of
defending the rights of Europe against French aggression. It was not, however, for this
that the Czar had sent his army from beyond the Carpathians. Since the opening of the
campaign Suvaroff had been in perpetual conflict with the military Council of Vienna.
[75] Suvaroff was bent upon a ceaseless pursuit of the enemy; the Austrian Council
insisted upon the reduction of fortresses. What at first appeared as a mere difference of
military opinion appeared in its true political character when the allied troops entered
Piedmont. The Czar desired with his whole soul to crush the men of the Revolution,
and to restore the governments which France had overthrown. As soon as his troops
entered Turin, Suvaroff proclaimed the restoration of the House of Savoy, and
summoned all Sardinian officers to fight for their King. He was interrupted by a letter
from Vienna requiring him to leave political affairs in the hands of the Viennese
Ministry. [76] The Russians had already done as much in Italy as the Austrian Cabinet
desired them to do, and the first wish of Thugut was now to free himself from his
troublesome ally. Suvaroff raged against the Austrian Government in every despatch,
and tendered his resignation. His complaints inclined the Czar to accept a new military
scheme, which was supported by the English Government in the hope of terminating
the contention between Suvaroff and the Austrian Council. It was agreed at St.
Petersburg that, as soon as the French armies were destroyed, the reduction of the
Italian fortresses should be left exclusively to the Austrians; and that Suvaroff, uniting
with a new Russian army now not far distant, should complete the conquest of
Switzerland, and then invade France by the Jura, supported on his right by the
Archduke Charles. An attack was to be made at the same time upon Holland by a
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combined British and Russian force.
If executed in its original form, this design would have thrown a formidable army upon
France at the side of Franche Comté, where it is least protected by fortresses. But at the
last moment an alteration in the plan was made at Vienna. The prospect of an
Anglo-Russian victory in Holland again fixed the thoughts of the Austrian Minister
upon Belgium, which had been so lightly abandoned five years before, and which
Thugut now hoped to re-occupy and to barter for Bavaria or some other territory. "The
Emperor," he wrote, "cannot turn a deaf ear to the appeal of his subjects. He cannot
consent that the Netherlands shall be disposed of without his own concurrence." [77]
The effect of this perverse and mischievous resolution was that the Archduke Charles
received orders to send the greater part of his army from Switzerland to the Lower
Rhine, and to leave only 25,000 men to support the new Russian division which, under
General Korsakoff, was approaching from the north to meet Suvaroff. The Archduke,
as soon as the new instructions reached him, was filled with the presentiment of
disaster, and warned his Government that in the general displacement of forces an
opportunity would be given to Massena, who was still above Zürich, to strike a fatal
blow. Every despatch that passed between Vienna and St. Petersburg now increased the
Czar's suspicion of Austria. The Pope and the King of Naples were convinced that
Thugut had the same design upon their own territories which had been shown in his
treatment of Piedmont. [78] They appealed to the Czar for protection. The Czar
proposed a European Congress, at which the Powers might learn one another's real
intentions. The proposal was not accepted by Austria; but, while disclaiming all desire
to despoil the King of Sardinia, the Pope, or the King of Naples, Thugut admitted that
Austria claimed an improvement of its Italian frontier, in other words, the annexation
of a portion of Piedmont, and of the northern part of the Roman States. The Czar
replied that he had taken up arms in order to check one aggressive Government, and
that he should not permit another to take its place.
For the moment, however, the allied forces continued to co-operate in Italy against the
French army on the Apennines covering Genoa. This army had received
reinforcements, and was now placed under the command of Joubert, one of the
youngest and most spirited of the Republican generals. Joubert determined to attack the
Russians before the fall of Mantua should add the besieging army to Suvaroff's forces
in the field. But the information which he received from Lombardy misled him. In the
second week of August he was still unaware that Mantua had fallen a fortnight before.
He descended from the mountains to attack Suvaroff at Tortona, with a force about
equal to Suvaroff's own. On reaching Novi he learnt that the army of Mantua was also
before him (Aug. 15). It was too late to retreat; Joubert could only give to his men the
example of Republican spirit and devotion. Suvaroff himself, with Kray, the conqueror
of Mantua, began the attack: the onset of a second Austrian corps, at the moment when
the strength of the Russians was failing, decided the day. Joubert did not live to witness
the close of a defeat which cost France eleven thousand men. [79]
The allied Governments had so framed their plans that the most overwhelming victory
could produce no result. Instead of entering France, Suvaroff was compelled to turn
back into Switzerland, while the Austrians continued to besiege the fortresses of
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Piedmont. In Switzerland Suvaroff had to meet an enemy who was forewarned of his
approach, and who had employed every resource of military skill and daring to prevent
the union of the two Russian armies now advancing from the south and the north.
Before Suvaroff could leave Italy, a series of admirably-planned attacks had given
Massena the whole network of the central Alpine passes, and closed every avenue of
communication between Suvaroff and the army with which he hoped to co-operate.
The folly of the Austrian Cabinet seconded the French general's exertions. No sooner
had Korsakoff and the new Russian division reached Schaffhausen than the Archduke
Charles, forced by his orders from Vienna, turned northwards (Sept. 3), leaving the
Russians with no support but Hotze's corps, which was scattered over six cantons. [80]
Korsakoff advanced to Zürich; Massena remained in his old position on the Uetliberg.
It was now that Suvaroff began his march into the Alps, sorely harassed and delayed by
the want of the mountain-teams which the Austrians had promised him, and filled with
the apprehension that Korsakoff would suffer some irreparable disaster before his own
arrival.
Two roads lead from the Italian lakes to central Switzerland; one, starting from the
head of Lago Maggiore and crossing the Gothard, ends on the shore of Lake Lucerne;
the other, crossing the Splügen, runs from the Lake of Como to Reichenau, in the
valley of the Rhine. The Gothard in 1799 was not practicable for cannon; it was chosen
by Suvaroff, however, for his own advance, with the object of falling upon Massena's
rear with the utmost possible speed. He left Bellinzona on the 21st of September,
fought his way in a desperate fashion through the French outposts that guarded the
defiles of the Gothard, and arrived at Altorf near the Lake of Lucerne. Here it was
discovered that the westward road by which Suvaroff meant to strike upon the enemy's
communications had no existence. Abandoning this design, Suvaroff made straight for
the district where his colleague was encamped, by a shepherd's path leading
north-eastwards across heights of 7,000 feet to the valley of the Muotta. Over this
desolate region the Russians made their way; and the resolution which brought them as
far as the Muotta would have brought them past every other obstacle to the spot where
they were to meet their countrymen. But the hour was past. While Suvaroff was still
struggling in the mountains, Massena advanced against Zürich, put Korsakoff's army to
total rout, and drove it, with the loss of all its baggage and of a great part of its artillery,
outside the area of hostilities.
[Retreat of Suvaroff.]
The first rumours of the catastrophe reached Suvaroff on the Muotta; he still pushed on
eastwards, and, though almost without ammunition, overthrew a corps commanded by
Massena in person, and cleared the road over the Pragel at the point of the bayonet,
arriving in Glarus on the 1st of October. Here the full extent of Korsakoff's disaster was
made known to him. To advance or to fall back was ruin. It only remained for
Suvaroff's army to make its escape across a wild and snow-covered mountain-tract into
the valley of the Rhine, where the river flows below the northern heights of the
Grisons. This exploit crowned a campaign which filled Europe with astonishment. The
Alpine traveller of to-day turns with some distrust from narratives which characterise
with every epithet of horror and dismay scenes which are the delight of our age; but the
retreat of Suvaroff's army, a starving, footsore multitude, over what was then an
untrodden wilderness of rock, and through fresh-fallen autumn snow two feet deep, had
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little in common with the boldest feats of Alpine hardihood. [81] It was achieved with
loss and suffering; it brought the army from a position of the utmost danger into one of
security; but it was followed by no renewed attack. Proposals for a combination
between Suvaroff and the Archduke Charles resulted only in mutual taunts and
menaces. The co-operation of Russia in the war was at an end. The French remained
masters of the whole of the Swiss territory that they had lost since the beginning of the
campaign.
In the summer months of 1799 the Czar had relieved his irritation against Austria by
framing in concert with the British Cabinet the plan for a joint expedition against
Holland. It was agreed that 25,000 English and 17,000 Russian troops, brought from
the Baltic in British ships, should attack the French in the Batavian Republic, and raise
an insurrection on behalf of the exiled Stadtholder. Throughout July the Kentish
coast-towns were alive with the bustle of war; and on the 13th of August the first
English division, numbering 12,000 men, set sail from Deal under the command of Sir
Ralph Abercromby. After tossing off the Dutch coast for a fortnight, the troops landed
at the promontory of the Helder. A Dutch corps was defeated on the sand-hills, and the
English captured the fort of the Helder, commanding the Texel anchorage. Immediately
afterwards a movement in favour of the Stadtholder broke out among the officers of the
Dutch fleet. The captains hoisted the Orange flag, and brought their ships over to the
English.
This was the first and the last result of the expedition. The Russian contingent and a
second English division reached Holland in the middle of September, and with them
came the Duke of York, who now took the command out of the hands of Abercromby.
On the other side reinforcements daily arrived from France, until the enemy's troops,
led by General Brune, were equal in strength to the invaders. A battle fought at
Alkmaar on the 19th of September gave the Allies some partial successes and no
permanent advantage; and on the 3rd of October the Duke of York gained one of those
so-called victories which result in the retreat of the conquerors. Never were there so
many good reasons for a bad conclusion. The Russians moved too fast or too slow; the
ditches set at nought the rules of strategy; it was discovered that the climate of Holland
was unfavourable to health, and that the Dutch had not the slightest inclination to get
back their Stadtholder. The result of a series of mischances, every one of which would
have been foreseen by an average midshipman in Nelson's fleet, or an average sergeant
in Massena's army, was that York had to purchase a retreat for the allied forces at a
price equivalent to an unconditional surrender. He was allowed to re-embark on
consideration that Great Britain restored to the French 8,000 French and Dutch
prisoners, and handed over in perfect repair all the military works which our own
soldiers had erected at the Helder. Bitter complaints were raised among the Russian
officers against York's conduct of the expedition. He was accused of sacrificing the
Russian regiments in battle, and of courting a general defeat in order not to expose his
own men. The accusation was groundless. Where York was, treachery or bad faith was
superfluous. York in command, the feeblest enemy became invincible. Incompetence
among the hereditary chiefs of the English army had become part of the order of
nature. The Ministry, when taxed with failure, obstinately shut their eyes to the true
cause of the disaster. Parliament was reminded that defeat was the most probable
conclusion of any military operations that we might undertake, and that England ought
not to expect success when Prussia and Austria had so long met only with misfortune.
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Under the command of Nelson, English sailors were indeed manifesting that kind of
superiority to the seamen of other nations which the hunter possesses over his prey; yet
this gave no reason why foresight and daring should count for anything ashore. If the
nation wished to see its soldiers undefeated, it must keep them at home to defend their
country. Even among the Opposition no voice was raised to protest against the system
which sacrificed English life and military honour to the dignity of the Royal Family.
The collapse of the Anglo-Russian expedition was viewed with more equanimity in
England than in Russia. The Czar dismissed his unfortunate generals. York returned
home, to run horses at Newmarket, to job commissions with his mistress, and to earn
his column at St. James's Park.
It was at this moment, when the tide of military success was already turning in favour
of the Republic, that the revolution took place which made Bonaparte absolute ruler of
France. Since the attack of the Government upon the Royalists in Fructidor, 1797, the
Directory and the factions had come no nearer to a system of mutual concession, or to a
peaceful acquiescence in the will of a parliamentary majority. The Directory, assailed
both by the extreme Jacobins and by the Constitutionalists, was still strong enough to
crush each party in its turn. The elections of 1798, which strengthened the Jacobins,
were annulled with as little scruple as the Royalist elections in the preceding year; it
was only when defeat in Germany and Italy had brought the Government into universal
discredit that the Constitutionalist party, fortified by the return of a large majority in the
elections of 1799, dared to turn the attack upon the Directors themselves. The
excitement of foreign conquest had hitherto shielded the abuses of Government from
criticism; but when Italy was lost, when generals and soldiers found themselves
without pay, without clothes, without reinforcements, one general outcry arose against
the Directory, and the nation resolved to have done with a Government whose outrages
and extortions had led to nothing but military ruin. The disasters of France in the spring
of 1799, which resulted from the failure of the Government to raise the armies to their
proper strength, were not in reality connected with the defects of the Constitution. They
were caused in part by the shameless jobbery of individual members of the
Administration, in part by the absence of any agency, like that of the Conventional
Commissioners of 1793, to enforce the control of the central Government over the local
authorities, left isolated and independent by the changes of 1789. Faults enough
belonged, however, to the existing political order; and the Constitutionalists, who now
for the second time found themselves with a majority in the Councils, were not
disposed to prolong a system which from the first had turned their majorities into
derision. A party grew up around the Abbé Siéyès intent upon some change which
should give France a government really representing its best elements. What the change
was to be few could say; but it was known that Siéyès, who had taken a leading part in
1789, and had condemned the Constitution of 1795 from the moment when it was
sketched, had elaborated a scheme which he considered exempt from every error that
had vitiated its predecessors. As the first step to reform, Siéyès himself was elected to a
Directorship then falling vacant. Barras attached himself to Siéyès; the three remaining
Directors, who were Jacobins and popular in Paris, were forced to surrender their seats.
Siéyès now only needed a soldier to carry out his plans. His first thought had turned on
Joubert, but Joubert was killed at Novi. Moreau scrupled to raise his hand against the
law; Bernadotte, a general distinguished both in war and in administration, declined to
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play a secondary part. Nor in fact was the support of Siéyès indispensable to any
popular and ambitious soldier who was prepared to attack the Government. Siéyès and
his friends offered the alliance of a party weighty in character and antecedents; but
there were other well-known names and powerful interests at the command of an
enterprising leader, and all France awaited the downfall of a Government whose action
had resulted only in disorder at home and defeat abroad.
Such was the political situation when, in the summer of 1799, Bonaparte, baffled in an
attack upon the Syrian fortress of St. Jean d'Acre, returned to Egypt, and received the
first tidings from Europe which had reached him since the outbreak of the war. He saw
that his opportunity had arrived. He determined to leave his army, whose ultimate
failure was inevitable, and to offer to France in his own person that sovereignty of
genius and strength for which the whole nation was longing. On the 7th of October a
despatch from Bonaparte was read in the Council of Five Hundred, announcing a
victory over the Turks at Aboukir. It brought the first news that had been received for
many months from the army of Egypt; it excited an outburst of joyous enthusiasm for
the general and the army whom a hated Government was believed to have sent into
exile; it recalled that succession of victories which had been unchecked by a single
defeat, and that Peace which had given France a dominion wider than any that her
Kings had won. While every thought was turned upon Bonaparte, the French nation
suddenly heard that Bonaparte himself had landed on the coast of Provence. "I was
sitting that day," says Béranger in his autobiography, "in our reading-room with thirty
or forty other persons. Suddenly the news was brought in that Bonaparte had returned
from Egypt. At the words, every man in the room started to his feet and burst into one
long shout of joy." The emotion portrayed by Béranger was that of the whole of France.
Almost everything that now darkens the early fame of Bonaparte was then unknown.
His falsities, his cold, unpitying heart were familiar only to accomplices and distant
sufferers; even his most flagrant wrongs, such as the destruction of Venice, were
excused by a political necessity, or disguised as acts of righteous chastisement. The
hopes, the imagination of France saw in Bonaparte the young, unsullied, irresistible
hero of the Republic. His fame had risen throughout a crisis which had destroyed all
confidence in others. The stale placemen of the factions sank into insignificance by his
side; even sincere Republicans, who feared the rule of a soldier, confessed that it is not
always given to a nation to choose the mode of its own deliverance. From the moment
that Bonaparte landed at Fréjus, he was master of France.
Siéyès saw that Bonaparte, and no one else, was the man through whom he could
overthrow the existing Constitution. [82] So little sympathy existed, however, between
Siéyès and the soldier to whom he now offered his support, that Bonaparte only
accepted Siéyès' project after satisfying himself that neither Barras nor Bernadotte
would help him to supreme power. Once convinced of this, Bonaparte closed with
Siéyès' offers. It was agreed that Siéyès and his friend Ducos should resign their
Directorships, and that the three remaining Directors should be driven from office. The
Assemblies, or any part of them favourable to the plot, were to appoint a Triumvirate
composed of Bonaparte, Siéyès, and Ducos, for the purpose of drawing up a new
Constitution. In the new Constitution it was understood, though without any definite
arrangement, that Bonaparte and Siéyès were to be the leading figures. The Council of
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Ancients was in great part in league with the conspirators: the only obstacle likely to
hinder the success of the plot was a rising of the Parisian populace. As a precaution
against attack, it was determined to transfer the meeting of the Councils to St. Cloud.
Bonaparte had secured the support of almost all the generals and troops in Paris. His
brother Lucien, now President of the Council of Five Hundred, hoped to paralyse the
action of his own Assembly, in which the conspirators were in the minority.
Early on the morning of the 9th of November (18 Brumaire), a crowd of generals and
officers met before Bonaparte's house. At the same moment a portion of the Council of
Ancients assembled, and passed a decree which adjourned the session to St. Cloud, and
conferred on Bonaparte the command over all the troops in Paris. The decree was
carried to Bonaparte's house and read to the military throng, who acknowledged it by
brandishing their swords. Bonaparte then ordered the troops to their posts, received the
resignation of Barras, and arrested the two remaining Directors in the Luxembourg.
During the night there was great agitation in Paris. The arrest of the two Directors and
the display of military force revealed the true nature of the conspiracy, and excited men
to resistance who had hitherto seen no great cause for alarm. The Councils met at St.
Cloud at two on the next day. The Ancients were ready for what was coming; the Five
Hundred refused to listen to Bonaparte's accomplices, and took the oath of fidelity to
the Constitution. Bonaparte himself entered the Council of Ancients, and in violent,
confused language declared that he had come to save the Republic from unseen
dangers. He then left the Assembly, and entered the Chamber of the Five Hundred,
escorted by armed grenadiers. A roar of indignation greeted the appearance of the
bayonets. The members rushed in a mass upon Bonaparte, and drove him out of the
hall. His brother now left the President's chair and joined the soldiers outside, whom he
harangued in the character of President of the Assembly. The soldiers, hitherto
wavering, were assured by Lucien's civil authority and his treacherous eloquence. The
drums beat; the word of command was given; and the last free representatives of
France struggled through doorways and windows before the levelled and advancing
bayonets.
The Constitution which Siéyès hoped now to impose upon France had been elaborated
by its author at the close of the Reign of Terror. Designed at that epoch, it bore the
trace of all those apprehensions which gave shape to the Constitution of 1795. The
statutory outrages of 1793, the Royalist reaction shown in the events of Vendémiaire,
were the perils from which both Siéyès and the legislators of 1795 endeavoured to
guard the future of France. It had become clear that a popular election might at any
moment return a royalist majority to the Assembly: the Constitution of 1795 averted
this danger by prolonging the power of the Conventionalists; Siéyès overcame it by
extinguishing popular election altogether. He gave to the nation no right but that of
selecting half a million persons who should be eligible to offices in the Communes, and
who should themselves elect a smaller body of fifty thousand, eligible to offices in the
Departments. The fifty thousand were in their turn to choose five thousand, who should
be eligible to places in the Government and the Legislature. The actual appointments
were to be made, however, not by the electors, but by the Executive. With the irrational
multitude thus deprived of the power to bring back its old oppressors, priests, royalists,
and nobles might safely do their worst. By way of still further precaution, Siéyès
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proposed that every Frenchman who had been elected to the Legislature since 1789
should be inscribed for ten years among the privileged five thousand.
Such were the safeguards provided against a Bourbonist reaction. To guard against a
recurrence of those evils which France had suffered from the precipitate votes of a
single Assembly, Siéyès broke up the legislature into as many chambers as there are
stages in the passing of a law. The first chamber, or Council of State, was to give shape
to measures suggested by the Executive; a second chamber, known as the Tribunate,
was to discuss the measures so framed, and ascertain the objections to which they were
liable; the third chamber, known as the Legislative Body, was to decide in silence for
or against the measures, after hearing an argument between representatives of the
Council and of the Tribunate. As a last impregnable bulwark against Jacobins and
Bourbonists alike, Siéyès created a Senate whose members should hold office for life,
and be empowered to annul every law in which the Chambers might infringe upon the
Constitution.
It only remained to invent an Executive. In the other parts of his Constitution, Siéyès
had borrowed from Rome, from Greece, and from Venice; in his Executive he
improved upon the political theories of Great Britain. He proposed that the Government
should consist of two Consuls and a Great Elector; the Elector, like an English king,
appointing and dismissing the Consuls, but taking no active part in the administration
himself. The Consuls were to be respectively restricted to the affairs of peace and of
war. Grotesque under every aspect, the Constitution of Siéyès was really calculated to
effect in all points but one the end which he had in view. His object was to terminate
the convulsions of France by depriving every element in the State of the power to
create sudden change. The members of his body politic, a Council that could only draft,
a Tribunate that could only discuss, a Legislature that could only vote, Yes or No, were
impotent for mischief; and the nation itself ceased to have a political existence as soon
as it had selected its half-million notables.
So far, nothing could have better suited the views of Bonaparte; and up to this point
Bonaparte quietly accepted Siéyès' plan. But the general had his own scheme for what
was to follow. Siéyès might apportion the act of deliberation among debating societies
and dumb juries to the full extent of his own ingenuity; but the moment that he applied
his disintegrating method to the Executive, Bonaparte swept away the flimsy reasoner,
and set in the midst of his edifice of shadows the reality of an absolute personal rule.
The phantom Elector, and the Consuls who were to be the Elector's tenants-at-will,
corresponded very little to the power which France desired to see at its head. "Was
there ever anything so ridiculous?" cried Bonaparte. "What man of spirit could accept
such a post?" It was in vain that Siéyès had so nicely set the balance. His theories gave
to France only the pageants which disguised the extinction of the nation beneath a
single will: the frame of executive government which the country received in 1799 was
that which Bonaparte deduced from the conception of an absolute central power. The
First Consul summed up all executive authority in his own person. By his side there
were set two colleagues whose only function was to advise. A Council of State placed
the highest skill and experience in France at the disposal of the chief magistrate,
without infringing upon his sovereignty. All offices, both in the Ministries of State and
in the provinces, were filled by the nominees of the First Consul. No law could be
proposed but at his desire.
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[Contrast of the Institutions of 1791 and 1799.]
[Centralisation of 1799.]
The institutions given to France by the National Assembly of 1789 and those given to it
in the Consulate exhibited a direct contrast seldom found outside the region of abstract
terms. Local customs, survivals of earlier law, such as soften the difference between
England and the various democracies of the United States, had no place in the sharp-cut
types in which the political order of France was recast in 1791 and 1799. The
Constituent Assembly had cleared the field before it began to reconstruct. Its
reconstruction was based upon the Rights of Man, identified with the principle of local
self-government by popular election. It deduced a system of communal administration
so completely independent that France was described by foreign critics as partitioned
into 40,000 republics; and the criticism was justified when, in 1793, it was found
necessary to create a new central Government, and to send commissioners from the
capital into the provinces. In the Constitution of 1791, judges, bishops, officers of the
National Guard, were all alike subjected to popular election; the Minister of War could
scarcely move a regiment from one village to another without the leave of the mayor of
the commune. In the Constitution of 1799 all authority was derived from the head of
the State. A system of centralisation came into force with which France under her kings
had nothing to compare. All that had once served as a check upon monarchical power,
the legal Parliaments, the Provincial Estates of Brittany and Languedoc, the rights of
lay and ecclesiastical corporations, had vanished away. In the place of the motley of
privileges that had tempered the Bourbon monarchy, in the place of the popular
Assemblies of the Revolution, there sprang up a series of magistracies as regular and as
absolute as the orders of military rank. [83] Where, under the Constitution of 1791, a
body of local representatives had met to conduct the business of the Department, there
was now a Préfet, appointed by the First Consul, absolute, like the First Consul
himself, and assisted only by the advice of a nominated council, which met for one
fortnight in the year. In subordination to the Préfet, an officer and similar council
transacted the local business of the Arrondissement. Even the 40,000 Maires with their
communal councils were all appointed directly or indirectly by the Chief of the State.
There existed in France no authority that could repair a village bridge, or light the
streets of a town, but such as owed its appointment to the central Government. Nor was
the power of the First Consul limited to the administration. With the exception of the
lowest and the highest members of the judicature, he nominated all judges, and
transferred them at his pleasure to inferior or superior posts.
Such was the system which, based to a great extent upon the preferences of the French
people, fixed even more deeply in the national character the willingness to depend
upon an omnipresent, all-directing power. Through its rational order, its regularity, its
command of the highest science and experience, this system of government could not
fail to confer great and rapid benefits upon the country. It has usually been viewed by
the French themselves as one of the finest creations of political wisdom. In comparison
with the self-government which then and long afterwards existed in England, the
centralisation of France had all the superiority of progress and intelligence over torpor
and self-contradiction. Yet a heavy, an incalculable price is paid by every nation which
for the sake of administrative efficiency abandons its local liberties, and all that is
bound up with their enjoyment. No practice in the exercise of public right armed a later
generation of Frenchmen against the audacity of a common usurper: no immortality of
youth secured the institutions framed by Napoleon against the weakness and corruption
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which at some period undermine all despotisms. The historian who has exhausted every
term of praise upon the political system of the Consulate lived to declare, as Chief of
the State himself, that the first need of France was the decentralisation of power. [84]
After ten years of disquiet, it was impossible that any Government could be more
welcome to the French nation than one which proclaimed itself the representative, not
of party or of opinion, but of France itself. No section of the nation had won a triumph
in the establishment of the Consulate; no section had suffered a defeat. In his own
elevation Bonaparte announced the close of civil conflict. A Government had arisen
which summoned all to its service which would employ all, reward all, reconcile all.
The earliest measures of the First Consul exhibited the policy of reconciliation by
which he hoped to rally the whole of France to his side. The law of hostages, under
which hundreds of families were confined in retaliation for local Royalist disturbances,
was repealed, and Bonaparte himself went to announce their liberty to the prisoners in
the Temple. Great numbers of names were struck off the list of the emigrants, and the
road to pardon was subsequently opened to all who had not actually served against
their country. In the selection of his officers of State, Bonaparte showed the same
desire to win men of all parties. Cambacérès, a regicide, was made Second Consul;
Lebrun, an old official of Louis XVI., became his colleague. In the Ministries, in the
Senate, and in the Council of State the nation saw men of proved ability chosen from
all callings in life and from all political ranks. No Government of France had counted
among its members so many names eminent for capacity and experience. One quality
alone was indispensable, a readiness to serve and to obey. In that intellectual greatness
which made the combination of all the forces of France a familiar thought in
Bonaparte's mind, there was none of the moral generosity which could pardon
opposition to himself, or tolerate energy acting under other auspices than his own. He
desired to see authority in the best hands; he sought talent and promoted it, but on the
understanding that it took its direction from himself. Outside this limit ability was his
enemy, not his friend; and what could not be caressed or promoted was treated with
tyrannical injustice. While Bonaparte boasted of the career that he had thrown open to
talent, he suppressed the whole of the independent journalism of Paris, and banished
Mme. de Stael, whose guests continued to converse, when they might not write, about
liberty. Equally partial, equally calculated, was Bonaparte's indulgence towards the
ancient enemies of the Revolution, the Royalists and the priests. He felt nothing of the
old hatred of Paris towards the Vendean noble and the superstitious Breton; he offered
his friendship to the stubborn Breton race, whose loyalty and piety he appreciated as
good qualities in subjects; but failing their submission, he instructed his generals in the
west of France to burn down their villages, and to set a price upon the heads of their
chiefs. Justice, tolerance, good faith, were things which had no being for Bonaparte
outside the circle of his instruments and allies.
[France ceases to excite democracy abroad, but promotes equality under monarchical
systems.]
In the foreign relations of France it was not possible for the most unscrupulous will to
carry aggression farther than it had been already carried; yet the elevation of Bonaparte
deeply affected the fortunes of all those States whose lot depended upon France. It was
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not only that a mind accustomed to regard all human things as objects for its own
disposal now directed an irresistible military force, but from the day when France
submitted to Bonaparte, the political changes accompanying the advance of the French
armies took a different character. Belgium and Holland, the Rhine Provinces, the
Cisalpine, the Roman, and the Parthenopean Republics, had all received, under
whatever circumstances of wrong, at least the forms of popular sovereignty. The reality
of power may have belonged to French generals and commissioners; but, however
insincerely uttered, the call to freedom excited hopes and aspirations which were not
insincere themselves. The Italian festivals of emancipation, the trees of liberty, the
rhetoric of patriotic assemblies, had betrayed little enough of the instinct for
self-government; but they marked a separation from the past; and the period between
the years 1796 and 1799 was in fact the birth-time of those hopes which have since
been realised in the freedom and the unity of Italy. So long as France had her own
tumultuous assemblies, her elections in the village and in the county-town, it was
impossible for her to form republics beyond the Alps without introducing at least some
germ of republican organisation and spirit. But when all power was concentrated in a
single man, when the spoken and the written word became an offence against the State,
when the commotion of the old municipalities was succeeded by the silence and the
discipline of a body of clerks working round their chief, then the advance of French
influence ceased to mean the support of popular forces against the Governments. The
form which Bonaparte had given to France was the form which he intended for the
clients of France. Hence in those communities which directly received the impress of
the Consulate, as in Bavaria and the minor German States, authority, instead of being
overthrown, was greatly strengthened. Bonaparte carried beyond the Rhine that portion
of the spirit of the Revolution which he accepted at home, the suppression of privilege,
the extinction of feudal rights, the reduction of all ranks to equality before the law, and
the admission of all to the public service. But this levelling of the social order in the
client-states of France, and the establishment of system and unity in the place of
obsolete privilege, cleared the way not for the supremacy of the people, but for the
supremacy of the Crown. The power which was taken away from corporations, from
knights, and from ecclesiastics, was given, not to a popular Representative, but to
Cabinet Ministers and officials ranged after the model of the official hierarchy of
France. What the French had in the first epoch of their Revolution endeavoured to
impart to Europe-the spirit of liberty and self-government-they had now renounced
themselves. The belief in popular right, which made the difference between the
changes of 1789 and those attempted by the Emperor Joseph, sank in the storms of the
Revolution.
[Bonaparte legislates in the spirit of the reforming monarchs of the 18th century.]
Yet the statesmanship of Bonaparte, if it repelled the liberal and disinterested sentiment
of 1789, was no mere cunning of a Corsican soldier, or exploit of mediæval genius
born outside its age. Subject to the fullest gratification of his own most despotic or
most malignant impulse, Bonaparte carried into his creations the ideas upon which the
greatest European innovators before the French Revolution had based their work. What
Frederick and Joseph had accomplished, or failed to accomplish, was realised in
Western Germany when its Sovereigns became the clients of the First Consul.
Bonaparte was no child of the French Revolution; he was the last and the greatest of
the autocratic legislators who worked in an unfree age. Under his rule France lost what
had seemed to be most its own; it most powerfully advanced the forms of progress
common to itself and the rest of Europe. Bonaparte raised no population to liberty: in
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extinguishing privilege and abolishing the legal distinctions of birth, in levelling all
personal and corporate authority beneath the single rule of the State, he prepared the
way for a rational freedom, when, at a later day, the Government of the State should
itself become the representative of the nation's will.
CHAPTER V.
The establishment of the Consulate gave France peace from the strife of parties. Peace
from foreign warfare was not less desired by the nation; and although the First Consul
himself was restlessly planning the next campaign, it belonged to his policy to
represent himself as the mediator between France and Europe. Discarding the usual
diplomatic forms, Bonaparte addressed letters in his own name to the Emperor Francis
and to King George III., deploring the miseries inflicted by war upon nations naturally
allied, and declaring his personal anxiety to enter upon negotiations for peace. The
reply of Austria which was courteously worded, produced an offer on the part of
Bonaparte to treat for peace upon the basis of the Treaty of Campo Formio. Such a
proposal was the best evidence of Bonaparte's real intentions. Austria had re-conquered
Lombardy, and driven the armies of the Republic from the Adige to within a few miles
of Nice. To propose a peace which should merely restore the situation existing at the
beginning of the war was pure irony. The Austrian Government accordingly declared
itself unable to treat without the concurrence of its allies. The answer of England to the
overtures of the First Consul was rough and defiant. It recounted the causes of war and
distrust which precluded England from negotiating with a revolutionary Government;
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and, though not insisting on the restoration of the Bourbons as a condition of peace, it
stated that no guarantee for the sincerity and good behaviour of France would be so
acceptable to Great Britain as the recall of the ancient family. [85]
Few State papers have been distinguished by worse faults of judgment than this English
manifesto. It was intended to recommend the Bourbons to France as a means of
procuring peace: it enabled Bonaparte to represent England as violently interfering with
the rights of the French people, and the Bourbons as seeking their restoration at the
hand of the enemy of their country. The answer made to Pitt's Government from Paris
was such as one high-spirited nation which had recently expelled its rulers might
address to another that had expelled its rulers a century before. France, it was said, had
as good a right to dismiss an incapable dynasty as Great Britain. If Talleyrand's reply
failed to convince King George that before restoring the Bourbons he ought to
surrender his own throne to the Stuarts, it succeeded in transferring attention from the
wrongs inflicted by France to the pretensions advanced by England. That it affected the
actual course of events there is no reason to believe. The French Government was well
acquainted with the real grounds of war possessed by England, in spite of the errors by
which the British Cabinet weakened the statement of its cause. What the mass of the
French people now thought, or did not think, had become a matter of very little
importance.
The war continued. Winter and the early spring of 1800 passed in France amidst
vigorous but concealed preparations for the campaign which was to drive the Austrians
from Italy. In Piedmont the Austrians spent months in inaction, which might have
given them Genoa and completed the conquest of Italy before Bonaparte's army could
take the field. It was not until the beginning of April that Melas, their general, assailed
the French positions on the Genoese Apennines; a fortnight more was spent in
mountain warfare before Massena, who now held the French command, found himself
shut up in Genoa and blockaded by land and sea. The army which Bonaparte was about
to lead into Italy lay in between Dijon and Geneva, awaiting the arrival of the First
Consul. On the Rhine, from Strasburg to Schaffhausen, a force of 100,000 men was
ready to cross into Germany under the command of Moreau, who was charged with the
task of pushing the Austrians back from the Upper Danube, and so rendering any attack
through Switzerland upon the communications of Bonaparte's Italian force impossible.
Moreau's army was the first to move. An Austrian force, not inferior to Moreau's own,
lay within the bend of the Rhine that covers Baden and Würtemberg. Moreau crossed
the Rhine at various points, and by a succession of ingenious manoeuvres led his
adversary, Kray, to occupy all the roads through the Black Forest except those by
which the northern divisions of the French were actually passing. A series of
engagements, conspicuous for the skill of the French general and the courage of the
defeated Austrians, gave Moreau possession of the country south of the Danube as far
as Ulm, where Kray took refuge in his entrenched camp. Beyond this point Moreau's
instructions forbade him to advance. His task was fulfilled by the severance of the
Austrian army from the roads into Italy.
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Bonaparte's own army was now in motion. Its destination was still secret; its very
existence was doubted by the Austrian generals. On the 8th of May the First Consul
himself arrived at Geneva, and assumed the command. The campaign upon which this
army was now entering was designed by Bonaparte to surpass everything that Europe
had hitherto seen most striking in war. The feats of Massena and Suvaroff in the Alps
had filled his imagination with mountain warfare. A victory over nature more imposing
than theirs might, in the present position of the Austrian forces in Lombardy, be made
the prelude to a victory in the field without a parallel in its effects upon the enemy.
Instead of relieving Genoa by an advance along the coast-road, Bonaparte intended to
march across the Alps and to descend in the rear of the Austrians. A single defeat
would then cut the Austrians off from their communications with Mantua, and result
either in the capitulation of their army or in the evacuation of the whole of the country
that they had won, Bonaparte led his army into the mountains. The pass of the Great St.
Bernard, though not a carriage-road, offered little difficulty to a commander supplied
with every resource of engineering material and skill; and by this road the army crossed
the Alps. The cannons were taken from their carriages and dragged up the mountain in
hollowed trees; thousands of mules transported the ammunition and supplies;
workshops for repairs were established on either slope of the mountain; and in the
Monastery of St. Bernard there were stores collected sufficient to feed the soldiers as
they reached the summit during six successive days (May 15-20). The passage of the
St. Bernard was a triumph of organisation, foresight, and good management; as a
military exploit it involved none of the danger, none of the suffering, none of the
hazard, which gave such interest to the campaign of Massena and Suvaroff.
Bonaparte had rightly calculated upon the unreadiness of his enemy. The advanced
guard of the French army poured down the valley of the Dora-Baltea upon the scanty
Austrian detachments at Ivrea and Chiusella, before Melas, who had in vain been
warned of the departure of the French from Geneva, arrived with a few thousand men
at Turin to dispute the entrance into Italy. Melas himself, on the opening of the
campaign, had followed a French division to Nice, leaving General Ott in charge of the
army investing Genoa. On reaching Turin he discovered the full extent of his peril, and
sent orders to Ott to raise the siege of Genoa and to join him with every regiment that
he could collect. Ott, however, was unwilling to abandon the prey at this moment
falling into his grasp. He remained stationary till the 5th of June, when Massena,
reduced to the most cruel extremities by famine, was forced to surrender Genoa to the
besiegers. But his obstinate endurance had the full effect of a battle won. Ott's delay
rendered Melas powerless to hinder the movements of Bonaparte, when, instead of
marching upon Genoa, as both French and Austrians expected him to do, he turned
eastward, and thrust his army between the Austrians and their own fortresses.
Bonaparte himself entered Milan (June 2); Lannes and Murat were sent to seize the
bridges over the Po and the Adda. The Austrian detachment guarding Piacenza was
overpowered; the communications of Melas with the country north of the Powere
completely severed. Nothing remained for the Austrian commander but to break
through the French or to make his escape to Genoa.
[Conditions of Armistice.]
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The French centre was now at Stradella, half-way between Piacenza and Alessandria.
Melas was at length joined by Ott at Alessandria, but so scattered were the Austrian
forces, that out of 80,000 men Melas had not more than 33,000 at his command.
Bonaparte's forces were equal in number; his only fear was that Melas might use his
last line of retreat, and escape to Genoa without an engagement. The Austrian general,
however, who had shared with Suvaroff the triumph over Joubert at Novi, resolved to
stake everything upon a pitched battle. He awaited Bonaparte's approach at
Alessandria. On the 12th of June Bonaparte advanced westward from Stradella. His
anxiety lest Melas might be escaping from his hands increased with every hour of the
march that brought him no tidings of the enemy; and on the 13th, when his advanced
guard had come almost up to the walls of Alessandria without seeing an enemy, he
could bear the suspense no longer, and ordered Desaix to march southward towards
Novi and hold the road to Genoa. Desaix led off his division. Early the next morning
the whole army of Melas issued from Alessandria, and threw itself upon the weakened
line of the French at Marengo. The attack carried everything before it: at the end of
seven hours' fighting, Melas, exhausted by his personal exertions, returned into
Alessandria, and sent out tidings of a complete victory. It was at this moment that
Desaix, who had turned at the sound of the cannon, appeared on the field, and declared
that, although one battle had been lost, another might be won. A sudden cavalry-charge
struck panic into the Austrians, who believed the battle ended and the foe overthrown.
Whole brigades threw down their arms and fled; and ere the day closed a mass of
fugitives, cavalry and infantry, thronging over the marshes of the Bormida, was all that
remained of the victorious Austrian centre. The suddenness of the disaster, the
desperate position of the army, cut off from its communications, overthrew the mind of
Melas, and he agreed to an armistice more fatal than an unconditional surrender. The
Austrians retired behind the Mincio, and abandoned to the French every fortress in
Northern Italy that lay west of that river. A single battle had produced the result of a
campaign of victories and sieges. Marengo was the most brilliant in conception of all
Bonaparte's triumphs. If in its execution the genius of the great commander had for a
moment failed him, no mention of the long hours of peril and confusion was allowed to
obscure the splendour of Bonaparte's victory. Every document was altered or
suppressed which contained a report of the real facts of the battle. The descriptions
given to the French nation claimed only new homage to the First Consul's invincible
genius and power. [86]
At Vienna the military situation was viewed more calmly than in Melas' camp. The
conditions of the armistice were generally condemned, and any sudden change in the
policy of Austria was prevented by a treaty with England, binding Austria, in return for
British subsidies, and for a secret promise of part of Piedmont, to make no separate
peace with France before the end of February, 1801. This treaty was signed a few hours
before the arrival of the news of Marengo. It was the work of Thugut, who still
maintained his influence over the Emperor, in spite of growing unpopularity and almost
universal opposition. Public opinion, however, forced the Emperor at least to take steps
for ascertaining the French terms of peace. An envoy was sent to Paris; and, as there
could be no peace without the consent of England, conferences were held with the
object of establishing a naval armistice between England and France. England,
however, refused the concessions demanded by the First Consul; and the negotiations
were broken off in September. But this interval of three months had weakened the
authority of the Minister and stimulated the intrigues which at every great crisis
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paralysed the action of Austria. At length, while Thugut was receiving the subsidies of
Great Britain and arranging for the most vigorous prosecution of the war, the Emperor,
concealing the transaction from his Minister, purchased a new armistice by the
surrender of the fortresses of Ulm and Ingolstadt to Moreau's army. [87]
A letter written by Thugut after a council held on the 25th of September gives some
indication of the stormy scene which then passed in the Emperor's presence. Thugut
tendered his resignation, which was accepted; and Lehrbach, the author of the new
armistice, was placed in office. But the reproaches of the British ambassador forced the
weak Emperor to rescind this appointment on the day after it had been published to the
world. There was no one in Vienna capable of filling the vacant post; and after a short
interval the old Minister resumed the duties of his office, without, however, openly
resuming the title. The remainder of the armistice was employed in strengthening the
force opposed to Moreau, who now received orders to advance upon Vienna. The
Archduke John, a royal strategist of eighteen, was furnished with a plan for
surrounding the French army and cutting it off from its communications. Moreau lay
upon the Isar; the Austrians held the line of the Inn. On the termination of the armistice
the Austrians advanced and made some devious marches in pursuance of the
Archduke's enterprise, until a general confusion, attributed to the weather, caused them
to abandon their manoeuvres and move straight against the enemy. On the 3rd of
December the Austrians plunged into the snow-blocked roads of the Forest of
Hohenlinden, believing that they had nothing near them but the rear-guard of a retiring
French division. Moreau waited until they had reached the heart of the forest, and then
fell upon them with his whole force in front, in flank, and in the rear. The defeat of the
Austrians was overwhelming. What remained of the war was rather a chase than a
struggle. Moreau successively crossed the Inn, the Salza, and the Traun; and on
December 25th the Emperor, seeing that no effort of Pitt could keep Moreau out of
Vienna, accepted an armistice at Steyer, and agreed to treat for peace without reference
to Great Britain.
Defeats on the Mincio, announced during the following days, increased the necessity
for peace. Thugut was finally removed from power. Some resistance was offered to the
conditions proposed by Bonaparte, but these were directed more to the establishment of
French influence in Germany than to the humiliation of the House of Hapsburg. Little
was taken from Austria but what she had surrendered at Campo Formio. It was not by
the cession of Italian or Slavonic provinces that the Government of Vienna paid for
Marengo and Hohenlinden, but at the cost of that divided German race whose
misfortune it was to have for its head a sovereign whose interests in the Empire and in
Germany were among the least of all his interests. The Peace of Lunéville, [88]
concluded between France and the Emperor on the 9th of February, 1801, without even
a reference to the Diet of the Empire, placed the minor States of Germany at the mercy
of the French Republic. It left to the House of Hapsburg the Venetian territory which it
had gained in 1797; it required no reduction of the Hapsburg influence in Italy beyond
the abdication of the Grand Duke of Tuscany; but it ceded to France, without the
disguises of 1797, the German provinces west of the Rhine, and it formally bound the
Empire to compensate the dispossessed lay Sovereigns in such a manner as should be
approved by France. The French Republic was thus made arbiter, as a matter of right,
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in the rearrangement of the maimed and shattered Empire. Even the Grand Duke of
Tuscany, like his predecessor in ejection, the Duke of Modena, was to receive some
portion of the German race for his subjects, in compensation for the Italians taken from
him. To such a pass had political disunion brought a nation which at that time could
show the greatest names in Europe in letters, in science, and in art.
Austria having succumbed, the Court of Naples, which had been the first of the Allies
to declare war, was left at the mercy of Bonaparte. Its cruelties and tyranny called for
severe punishment; but the intercession of the Czar kept the Bourbons upon the throne,
and Naples received peace upon no harder condition than the exclusion of English
vessels from its ports. England was now left alone in its struggle with the French
Republic. Nor was it any longer to be a struggle only against France and its
dependencies. The rigour with which the English Government had used its superiority
at sea, combined with the folly which it had shown in the Anglo-Russian attack upon
Holland, raised against it a Maritime League under the leadership of a Power which
England had offended as a neutral and exasperated as an ally. Since the pitiful Dutch
campaign, the Czar had transferred to Great Britain the hatred which he had hitherto
borne to France. The occasion was skilfully used by Bonaparte, to whom, as a soldier,
the Czar felt less repugnance than to the Government of advocates and contractors
which he had attacked in 1799. The First Consul restored without ransom several
thousands of Russian prisoners, for whom the Austrians and the English had refused to
give up Frenchmen in exchange, and followed up this advance by proposing that the
guardianship of Malta, which was now blockaded by the English, should be given to
the Czar. Paul had caused himself to be made Grand Master of the Maltese Order of St.
John of Jerusalem. His vanity was touched by Bonaparte's proposal, and a friendly
relation was established between the French and Russian Governments. England, on
the other hand, refused to place Malta under Russian guardianship, either before or
after its surrender. This completed the breach between the Courts of London and St.
Petersburg. The Czar seized all the English vessels in his ports and imprisoned their
crews (Sept. 9). A difference of long standing existed between England and the
Northern Maritime Powers, which was capable at any moment of being made a cause
of war. The rights exercised over neutral vessels by English ships in time of hostilities,
though good in international law, were so oppressive that, at the time of the American
rebellion, the Northern Powers had formed a league, known as the Armed Neutrality,
for the purpose of resisting by force the interference of the English with neutral
merchantmen upon the high seas. Since the outbreak of war with France, English
vessels had again pushed the rights of belligerents to extremes. The Armed Neutrality
of 1780 was accordingly revived under the auspices of the Czar. The League was
signed on the 16th of December, 1800, by Russia, Sweden, and Denmark. Some days
later Prussia gave in its adhesion. [89]
[Points at issue.]
The points at issue between Great Britain and the Neutrals were such as arise between a
great naval Power intent upon ruining its adversary and that larger part of the world
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which remains at peace and desires to carry on its trade with as little obstruction as
possible. It was admitted on all sides that a belligerent may search a neutral vessel in
order to ascertain that it is not conveying contraband of war, and that a neutral vessel,
attempting to enter a blockaded port, renders itself liable to forfeiture; but beyond these
two points everything was in dispute. A Danish ship conveys a cargo of wine from a
Bordeaux merchant to his agent in New York. Is the wine liable to be seized in the
mid-Atlantic by an English cruiser, to the destruction of the Danish carrying-trade, or is
the Danish flag to protect French property from a Power whose naval superiority makes
capture upon the high seas its principal means of offence? England announces that a
French port is in a state of blockade. Is a Swedish vessel, stopped while making for the
port in question, to be considered a lawful prize, when, if it had reached the port, it
would as a matter of fact have found no real blockade in existence? A Russian cargo of
hemp, pitch, and timber is intercepted by an English vessel on its way to an open port
in France. Is the staple produce of the Russian Empire to lose its market as contraband
of war? Or is an English man-of-war to allow material to pass into France, without
which the repair of French vessels of war would be impossible?
[War between England and the Northern Maritime Powers, Jan., 1801.]
These were the questions raised as often as a firm of shipowners in a neutral country
saw their vessel come back into port cleared of its cargo, or heard that it was lying in
the Thames awaiting the judgment of the Admiralty Court. Great Britain claimed the
right to seize all French property, in whatever vessel it might be sailing, and to
confiscate, as contraband of war, not only muskets, gunpowder, and cannon, but wheat,
on which the provisioning of armies depended, and hemp, pitch, iron, and timber, out
of which the navies of her adversary were formed. The Neutrals, on the other hand,
demanded that a neutral flag should give safe passage to all goods on board, not being
contraband of war; that the presence of a vessel of State as convoy should exempt
merchantmen from search; that no port should be considered in a state of blockade
unless a competent blockading force was actually in front of it; and that contraband of
war should include no other stores than those directly available for battle.
Considerations of reason and equity may be urged in support of every possible theory
of the rights of belligerents and neutrals; but the theory of every nation has, as a matter
of fact, been that which at the time accorded with its own interests. When a long era of
peace had familiarised Great Britain with the idea that in the future struggles of Europe
it was more likely to be a spectator than a belligerent, Great Britain accepted the
Neutrals' theory of international law at the Congress of Paris in 1856; but in 1801,
when the lot of England seemed to be eternal warfare, any limitation of the rights of a
belligerent appeared to every English jurist to contradict the first principles of reason.
Better to add a general maritime war to the existing difficulties of the country than to
abandon the exercise of its naval superiority in crippling the commerce of an adversary.
The Declaration of armed Neutrality, announcing the intention of the Allied Powers to
resist the seizure of French goods on board their own merchantmen, was treated in this
country as a declaration of war. The Government laid an embargo upon all vessels of
the allied neutrals lying in English ports (Jan. 14th, 1801), and issued a swarm of
privateers against the trading ships making for the Baltic. Negotiations failed to lower
the demands of either side, and England prepared to deal with the navies of Russia,
Denmark, Sweden, and Prussia.
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At the moment, the concentrated naval strength of England made it more than a match
for its adversaries. A fleet of seventeen ships of the line sailed from Yarmouth on the
12th of March, under the command of Parker and Nelson, with orders to coerce the
Danes and to prevent the junction of the confederate navies. The fleet reached the
Sound. The Swedish batteries commanding the Sound failed to open fire. Nelson kept
to the eastern side of the channel, and brought his ships safely past the storm of shot
poured upon them from the Danish guns at Elsinore. He appeared before Copenhagen
at mid-day on the 30th of March. Preparations for resistance were made by the Danes
with extraordinary spirit and resolution. The whole population of Copenhagen
volunteered for service on the ships, the forts, and the floating batteries. Two days were
spent by the English in exploring the shallows of the channel; on the morning of the
2nd of April Nelson led his ships into action in front of the harbour. Three ran aground;
the Danish fire from land and sea was so violent that after some hours Admiral Parker,
who watched the engagement from the mid-channel, gave the signal of recall. Nelson
laughed at the signal, and continued the battle. In another hour the six Danish
men-of-war and the whole of the floating batteries were disabled or sunk. The English
themselves had suffered most severely from a resistance more skilful and more
determined than anything that they had experienced from the French, and Nelson
gladly offered a truce as soon as his own victory was assured. The truce was followed
by negotiation, and the negotiation by an armistice for fourteen weeks, a term which
Nelson considered sufficient to enable him to visit and to overthrow the navies of
Sweden and Russia.
But an event had already occurred more momentous in its bearing upon the Northern
Confederacy than the battle of Copenhagen itself. On the night of the 23rd of March
the Czar of Russia was assassinated in his palace. Paul's tyrannical violence, and his
caprice verging upon insanity, had exhausted the patience of a court acquainted with no
mode of remonstrance but homicide. Blood-stained hands brought to the Grand Duke
Alexander the crown which he had consented to receive after a pacific abdication.
Alexander immediately reversed the policy of his father, and sent friendly
communications both to the Government at London and to the commander of the
British fleet in the Baltic. The maintenance of commerce with England was in fact
more important to Russia than the protection of its carrying trade. Nelson's attack was
averted. A compromise was made between the two Governments, which saved Russia's
interests, without depriving England of its chief rights against France. The principles of
the Armed Neutrality were abandoned by the Government of St. Petersburg in so far as
they related to the protection of an enemy's goods by the neutral flag. Great Britain
continued to seize French merchandise on board whatever craft it might be found; but it
was stipulated that the presence of a ship of war should exempt neutral vessels from
search by privateers, and that no port should be considered as in a state of blockade
unless a reasonable blockading force was actually in front of it. The articles condemned
as contraband were so limited as not to include the flax, hemp, and timber, on whose
export the commerce of Russia depended. With these concessions the Czar was easily
brought to declare Russia again neutral. The minor Powers of the Baltic followed the
example of St. Petersburg; and the naval confederacy which had threatened to turn the
balance in the conflict between England and the French Republic left its only trace in
the undeserved suffering of Denmark.
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[Affairs in Egypt.]
Eight years of warfare had left France unassailable in Western Europe, and England in
command of every sea. No Continental armies could any longer be raised by British
subsidies: the navies of the Baltic, with which Bonaparte had hoped to meet England
on the seas, lay at peace in their ports. Egypt was now the only arena remaining where
French and English combatants could meet, and the dissolution of the Northern
Confederacy had determined the fate of Egypt by leaving England in undisputed
command of the approach to Egypt by sea. The French army, vainly expecting
reinforcements, and attacked by the Turks from the east, was caught in a trap. Soon
after the departure of Bonaparte from Alexandria, his successor, General Kleber, had
addressed a report to the Directory, describing the miserable condition of the force
which Bonaparte had chosen to abandon. The report was intercepted by the English,
and the Government immediately determined to accept no capitulation which did not
surrender the whole of the French army as prisoners of war. An order to this effect was
sent to the Mediterranean. Before, however, the order reached Sir Sidney Smith, the
English admiral cooperating with the Turks, an agreement had been already signed by
him at El Arish, granting Kleber's army a free return to France (Feb. 24, 1800). After
Kleber, in fulfilment of the conditions of the treaty, had withdrawn his troops from
certain positions, Sir Sidney Smith found himself compelled to inform the French
General that in the negotiations of El Arish he had exceeded his powers, and that the
British Government insisted upon the surrender of the French forces. Kleber replied by
instantly giving battle to the Turks at Heliopolis, and putting to the rout an army six
times as numerous as his own. The position of the French seemed to be growing
stronger in Egypt, and the prospect of a Turkish re-conquest more doubtful, when the
dagger of a fanatic robbed the French of their able chief, and transferred the command
to General Menou, one of the very few French officers of marked incapacity who held
command at any time during the war. The British Government, as soon as it learnt what
had taken place between Kleber and Sir Sidney Smith, declared itself willing to be
bound by the convention of El Arish. The offer was, however, rejected by the French. It
was clear that the Turks could never end the war by themselves; and the British
Ministry at last came to understand that Egypt must be re-conquered by English arms.
On the 8th of March, 1801, a corps of 17,000 men, led by Sir Ralph Abercromby,
landed at Aboukir Bay. According to the plan of the British Government,
Abercromby's attack was to be supported by a Turkish corps from Syria, and by an
Anglo-Indian division brought from Ceylon to Kosseir, on the Red Sea. The Turks and
the Indian troops were, however, behind their time, and Abercromby opened the
campaign alone. Menou had still 27,000 troops at his disposal. Had he moved up with
the whole of his army from Cairo, he might have destroyed the English immediately
after their landing. Instead of doing so, he allowed weak isolated detachments of the
French to sink before superior numbers. The English had already gained confidence of
victory when Menou advanced in some force in order to give battle in front of
Alexandria. The decisive engagement took place on the 21st of March. The French
were completely defeated. Menou, however, still refused to concentrate his forces; and
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in the course of a few weeks 13,000 French troops which had been left behind at Cairo
were cut off from communication with the rest of the army. A series of attempts made
by Admiral Ganteaume to land reinforcements from France ended fruitlessly. Towards
the end of June the arrival of a Turkish force enabled the English to surround the
French in Cairo. The circuit of the works was too large to be successfully defended; on
the other hand, the English were without the heavy artillery necessary for a siege.
Under these circumstances the terms which had originally been offered at El Arish
were again proposed to General Belliard for himself and the army of Cairo. They were
accepted, and Cairo was surrendered to the English on condition that the garrison
should be conveyed back to France (June 27). Soon after the capitulation General Baird
reached Lower Egypt with an Anglo-Indian division. Menou with the remainder of the
French army was now shut up in Alexandria. His forts and outworks were successively
carried; his flotilla was destroyed; and when all hope of support from France had been
abandoned, the army of Alexandria, which formed the remnant of the troops with
which Bonaparte had won his earliest victories in Italy, found itself compelled to
surrender the last stronghold of the French in Egypt (Aug. 30). It was the first
important success which had been gained by English soldiers over the troops of the
Republic; the first campaign in which English generalship had permitted the army to
show itself in its true quality.
Peace was now at hand. Soon after the Treaty of Lunéville had withdrawn Austria from
the war, unofficial negotiations had begun between the Governments of Great Britain
and France. The object with which Pitt had entered upon the war, the maintenance of
the old European system against the aggression of France, was now seen to be one
which England must abandon. England had borne its share in the defence of the
Continent. If the Continental Powers could no longer resist the ascendancy of a single
State, England could not struggle for the Balance of Power alone. The negotiations of
1801 had little in common with those of 1796. Belgium, which had been the burden of
all Pitt's earlier despatches, no longer figured as an object of contention. The frontier of
the Rhine, with the virtual possession of Holland and Northern Italy, under the title of
the Batavian, Ligurian, and Cisalpine Republics, was tacitly conceded to France. In
place of the restoration of the Netherlands, the negotiators of 1801 argued about the
disposal of Egypt, of Malta, and of the colonies which Great Britain had conquered
from France and its allies. Events decided the fate of Egypt. The restoration of Malta to
the Knights of St. John was strenuously demanded by France, and not refused by
England. It was in relation to the colonial claims of France that the two Governments
found it most difficult to agree. Great Britain, which had lost no territory itself, had
conquered nearly all the Asiatic and Atlantic colonies of the French Republic and of its
Dutch and Spanish allies. In return for the restoration of Ceylon, the Cape of Good
Hope, Guiana, Trinidad, and various East and West Indian settlements, France had
nothing to offer to Great Britain but peace. If peace, however, was to be made, the only
possible settlement was by means of a compromise; and it was finally agreed that
England should retain Ceylon and Trinidad, and restore the rest of the colonies which it
had taken from France, Spain, and Holland. Preliminaries of peace embodying these
conditions were signed at London on the 1st of October, 1801. Hostilities ceased; but
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an interval of several months between the preliminary agreement and the conclusion of
the final treaty was employed by Bonaparte in new usurpations upon the Continent, to
which he forced the British Government to lend a kind of sanction in the continuance
of the negotiations. The Government, though discontented, was unwilling to treat these
acts as new occasions of war. The conferences were at length brought to a close, and
the definitive treaty between France and Great Britain was signed at Amiens on the
27th of March, 1802. [90]
The Minister who, since the first outbreak of war, had so resolutely struggled for the
freedom of Europe, was no longer in power when Great Britain entered into
negotiations with the First Consul. In the same week that Austria signed the Peace of
Lunéville, Pitt had retired from office. The catastrophe which dissolved his last
Continental alliance may possibly have disposed Pitt to make way for men who could
treat for peace with a better grace than himself, but the immediate cause of his
retirement was an affair of internal policy. Among the few important domestic
measures which Pitt had not sacrificed to foreign warfare was a project for the
Legislative Union of Great Britain and Ireland. Ireland had up to this time possessed a
Parliament nominally independent of that of Great Britain. Its population, however,
was too much divided to create a really national government; and, even if the internal
conditions of the country had been better, the practical sovereignty of Great Britain
must at that time have prevented the Parliament of Dublin from being more than an
agency of ministerial corruption. It was the desire of Pitt to give to Ireland, in the place
of a fictitious independence, that real participation in the political life of Great Britain
which has more than recompensed Scotland and Wales for the loss of separate
nationality. As an earnest of legislative justice, Pitt gave hopes to the leaders of the
Irish Catholic party that the disabilities which excluded Roman Catholics from the
House of Commons and from many offices in the public service would be no longer
maintained. On this understanding the Catholics of Ireland abstained from offering to
Pitt's project a resistance which would probably have led to its failure. A majority of
members in the Protestant Parliament of Dublin accepted the price which the Ministry
offered for their votes. A series of resolutions in favour of the Legislative Union of the
two countries was transmitted to England in the spring of 1800; the English Parliament
passed the Act of Union in the same summer; and the first United Parliament of Great
Britain and Ireland assembled in London at the beginning of the year 1801.
[Addington Minister.]
Pitt now prepared to fulfil his virtual promise to the Irish Catholics. A measure
obliterating the ancient lines of civil and religious enmity, and calling to public life a
class hitherto treated as alien and hostile to the State, would have been in true
consonance with all that was best in Pitt's own statesmanship. But the ignorant bigotry
of King George III. was excited against him by men who hated every act of justice or
tolerance to Roman Catholics; and it proved of greater force than the genius of the
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Minister. The old threat of the King's personal enmity was publicly addressed to Pitt's
colleague, Dundas, when the proposal for Catholic emancipation was under discussion
in the Cabinet; and, with a just regard for his own dignity, Pitt withdrew from office
(Feb. 5, 1801), unable to influence a Sovereign who believed his soul to be staked on
the letter of the Coronation Oath. The ablest members of Pitt's government, Grenville,
Dundas, and Windham, retired with their leader. Addington, Speaker of the House of
Commons, became Prime Minister, with colleagues as undistinguished as himself. It
was under the government of Addington that the negotiations were begun which
resulted in the signature of Preliminaries of Peace in October 1801.
Pitt himself supported the new Ministry in their policy of peace; Grenville, lately Pitt's
Foreign Minister, unsparingly condemned both the cession of the conquered colonies
and the policy of granting France peace on any terms whatever. Viewed by the light of
our own knowledge of events, the Peace of 1801 appears no more than an unprofitable
break in an inevitable war; and perhaps even then the signs of Bonaparte's ambition
justified those who, like Grenville, urged the nation to give no truce to France, and to
trust to Bonaparte's own injustice to raise us up allies upon the Continent. But, for the
moment, peace seemed at least worth a trial. The modes of prosecuting a war of
offence were exhausted; the cost of the national defence remained the same. There
were no more navies to destroy, no more colonies to seize; the sole means of injuring
the enemy was by blockading his ports, and depriving him of his maritime commerce.
On the other hand, the possibility of a French invasion required the maintenance of an
enormous army and militia in England, and prevented any great reduction in the
expenses of the war, which had already added two hundred millions to the National
Debt. Nothing was lost by making peace, except certain colonies and military positions
which few were anxious to retain. The argument that England could at any moment
recover what she now surrendered was indeed a far sounder one than most of those
which went to prove that the positions in question were of no real service. Yet even on
the latter point there was no want of high authority. It was Nelson himself who assured
the House of Lords that neither Malta nor the Cape of Good Hope could ever be of
importance to Great Britain. [91] In the face of such testimony, the men who lamented
that England should allow the adversary to recover any lost ground in the midst of a
struggle for life or death, passed for obstinate fanatics. The Legislature reflected the
general feeling of the nation; and the policy of the Government was confirmed in the
Lords and the Commons by majorities of ten to one.
Although the Ministry of Addington had acted with energy both in Egypt and in the
Baltic, it was generally felt that Pitt's retirement marked the surrender of that resolute
policy which had guided England since 1793. When once the Preliminaries of Peace
had been signed in London, Bonaparte rightly judged that Addington would waive
many just causes of complaint, rather than break off the negotiations which were to
convert the Preliminaries into a definitive treaty. Accordingly, in his instructions to
Joseph Bonaparte, who represented France at the conferences held at Amiens, the First
Consul wrote, through Talleyrand, as follows:-"You are forbidden to entertain any
proposition relating to the King of Sardinia, or to the Stadtholder, or to the internal
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affairs of Batavia, of Helvetia, or the Republic of Italy. None of these subjects have
anything to do with the discussions of England." The list of subjects excluded from the
consideration of England was the list of aggressions by which Bonaparte intended to
fill up the interval of Continental peace. In the Treaty of Lunéville, the independence of
the newly-established republics in Holland, Switzerland, and Italy had been recognised
by France. The restoration of Piedmont to the House of Savoy had been the condition
on which the Czar made peace. But on every one of these points the engagements of
France were made only to be broken. So far from bringing independence to the
client-republics of France, the peace of Lunéville was but the introduction to a series of
changes which brought these States directly into the hands of the First Consul. The
establishment of absolute government in France itself entailed a corresponding change
in each of its dependencies, and the creation of an executive which should accept the
First Consul's orders with as little question as the Prefect of a French department.
Holland received its new constitution while France was still at war with England. The
existing Government and Legislature of the Batavian Republic were dissolved (Sept.,
1801), and replaced by a council of twelve persons, each holding the office of President
in turn for a period of three months, and by a legislature of thirty-five, which met only
for a few days in the year. The power given to the new President during his office was
enough, and not more than enough, to make him an effective servant: a three-months'
Minister and an Assembly that met and parted at the word of command were not likely
to enter into serious rivalry with the First Consul. The Dutch peaceably accepted the
constitution thus forced upon them; they possessed no means of resistance, and their
affairs excited but little interest upon the Continent.
Far more striking was the revolution next effected by the First Consul. In obedience to
orders sent from Paris to the Legislature of the Cisalpine Republic, a body of four
hundred and fifty Italian representatives crossed the Alps in the middle of winter in
order to meet the First Consul at Lyons, and to deliberate upon a constitution for the
Cisalpine Republic. The constitution had, as a matter of fact, been drawn up by
Talleyrand, and sent to the Legislature at Milan some months before. But it was not for
the sake of Italy that its representatives were collected at Lyons, in the presence of the
First Consul, with every circumstance of national solemnity. It was the most striking
homage which Bonaparte could exact from a foreign race in the face of all France; it
was the testimony that other lands besides France desired Bonaparte to be their
sovereign. When all the minor offices in the new Cisalpine Constitution had been
filled, the Italians learnt that the real object of the convocation was to place the sceptre
in Bonaparte's hands. They accepted the part which they found themselves forced to
play, and offered to the First Consul the presidency of the Cisalpine State (Jan. 25,
1802). Unlike the French Consulate, the chief magistracy in the new Cisalpine
Constitution might be prolonged beyond the term of ten years. Bonaparte had
practically won the Crown of Lombardy; and he had given to France the example of a
submission more unqualified than its own. A single phrase rewarded the people who
had thus placed themselves in his hands. The Cisalpine Republic was allowed to
assume the name of Italian Republic. The new title indicated the national hopes which
had sprung up in Italy during the past ten years; it indicated no real desire on the part of
Bonaparte to form either a free or a united Italian nation. In the Cisalpine State itself,
although a good administration and the extinction of feudal privileges made
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Bonaparte's government acceptable, patriots who asked for freedom ran the risk of
exile or imprisonment. What further influence was exercised by France upon Italian
soil was not employed for the consolidation of Italy. Tuscany was bestowed by
Bonaparte upon the Spanish Prince of Parma, and controlled by agents of the First
Consul. Piedmont, which had long been governed by French generals, was at length
definitely annexed to France.
[Intervention in Switzerland.]
Switzerland had not, like the Cisalpine Republic, derived its liberty from the victories
of French armies, nor could Bonaparte claim the presidency of the Helvetic State under
the title of its founder. The struggles of the Swiss parties, however, placed the country
at the mercy of France. Since the expulsion of the Austrians by Massena in 1799, the
antagonism between the Democrats of the town and the Federalists of the Forest
Cantons had broken out afresh. A French army still occupied Switzerland; the Minister
of the First Consul received instructions to interfere with all parties and consolidate
none. In the autumn of 1801, the Federalists were permitted to dissolve the central
Helvetic Government, which had been created by the Directory in 1798. One change
followed another, until, on the 19th of May, 1802, a second Constitution was
proclaimed, based, like that of 1798, on centralising and democratic principles, and
almost extinguishing the old local independence of the members of the Swiss League.
No sooner had French partisans created this Constitution, which could only be
maintained by force against the hostility of Berne and the Forest Cantons, than the
French army quitted Switzerland. Civil war instantly broke out, and in the course of a
few weeks the Government established by the French had lost all Switzerland except
the Pays de Vaud. This was the crisis for which Bonaparte had been waiting. On the
4th of October a proclamation appeared at Lausanne, announcing that the First Consul
had accepted the office of Mediator of the Helvetic League. A French army entered
Switzerland. Fifty-six deputies from the cantons were summoned to Paris; and, in the
beginning of 1803, a new Constitution, which left the central Government powerless in
the hands of France and reduced the national sovereignty to cantonal
self-administration, placed Switzerland on a level with the Batavian and the Cisalpine
dependencies of Bonaparte. The Rhone Valley, with the mountains crossed by the new
road over the Simplon, was converted into a separate republic under the title of La
Valais. The new chief magistrate of the Helvetic Confederacy entered upon his office
with a pension paid out of Bonaparte's secret police fund.
[Settlement of Germany.]
Such was the nature of the independence which the Peace of Lunéville gave to Holland,
to Northern Italy, and to Switzerland. The re-organisation of Germany, which was
provided for by the same treaty, affected larger interests, and left more permanent
traces upon European history. In the provinces ceded to France lay the territory of the
ancient ecclesiastical princes of the empire, the Electors of Mainz, Cologne, and
Trèves; but, besides these spiritual sovereigns, a variety of secular potentates, ranging
from the Elector Palatine, with 600,000 subjects, to the Prince of Wiedrunkel, with a
single village, owned territory upon the left bank of the Rhine; and for the dispossessed
lay princes new territories had now to be formed by the destruction of other
ecclesiastical States in the interior of Germany. Affairs returned to the state in which
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they had stood in 1798, and the comedy of Rastadt was renewed at the point where it
had been broken off: the only difference was that the French statesmen who controlled
the partition of ecclesiastical Germany now remained in Paris, instead of coming to the
Rhine, to run the risk of being murdered by Austrian hussars. Scarcely was the Treaty
of Lunéville signed when the whole company of intriguers who had touted at Rastadt
posted off to the French capital with their maps and their money-bags, the keener for
the work when it became known that by common consent the Free Cities of the Empire
were now to be thrown into the spoil. Talleyrand and his confidant Mathieu had no
occasion to ask for bribes, or to manoeuvre for the position of arbiters in Germany.
They were overwhelmed with importunities. Solemn diplomatists of the old school
toiled up four flights of stairs to the office of the needy secretary, or danced attendance
at the parties of the witty Minister. They hugged Talleyrand's poodle; they vied with
one another in gaining a smile from the child whom he brought up at his house. [92]
The shrewder of them fortified their attentions with solid bargains, and made it their
principal care not to be outbidden at the auction. Thus the game was kept up as long as
there was a bishopric or a city in the market.
This was the real process of the German re-organisation. A pretended one was
meanwhile enacted by the Diet of Ratisbon. The Diet deliberated during the whole of
the summer of 1801 without arriving at a single resolution. Not even the sudden change
of Russian policy that followed the death of the Emperor Paul and deprived Bonaparte
of the support of the Northern Maritime League, could stimulate the German Powers to
united action. The old antagonism of Austria and Prussia paralysed the Diet. Austria
sought a German indemnity for the dethroned Grand Duke of Tuscany; Prussia aimed
at extending its influence into Southern Germany by the annexation of Würzburg and
Bamberg. Thus the summer of 1801 was lost in interminable debate, until Bonaparte
regained the influence over Russia which he had held before the death of Paul, and
finally set himself free from all check and restraint by concluding peace with England.
No part of Bonaparte's diplomacy was more ably conceived or more likely to result in a
permanent empire than that which affected the secondary States of Germany. The
rivalry of Austria and Prussia, the dread of Austrian aggression felt in Bavaria, the
grotesque ambition of the petty sovereigns of Baden and Würtemburg, were all
understood and turned to account in the policy which from this time shaped the French
protectorate beyond the Rhine. Bonaparte intended to give to Prussia such an increase
of territory upon the Baltic as should counterbalance the power of Austria; and for this
purpose he was willing to sacrifice Hanover or Mecklenburg: but he forbade Prussia's
extension to the south. Austria, so far from gaining new territory in Bavaria, was to be
deprived of its own outlying possessions in Western Germany, and excluded from all
influence in this region. Bavaria, dependent upon French protection against Austria,
was to be greatly strengthened. Baden and Würtemberg, enriched by the spoil of little
sovereignties, of Bishoprics and Free Cities, were to look to France for further
elevation and aggrandisement. Thus, while two rival Powers balanced one another
upon the Baltic and the Lower Danube, the sovereigns of central and western Germany,
owing everything to the Power that had humbled Austria, would find in submission to
France the best security for their own gains, and the best protection against their more
powerful neighbours.
[Treaty between France and Russia for joint action in Germany, Oct. 11, 1801.]
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One condition alone could have frustrated a policy agreeable to so many interests,
namely, the existence of a national sentiment among the Germans themselves. But the
peoples of Germany cared as little about a Fatherland as their princes. To the Hessian
and the Bavarian at the centre of the Empire, Germany was scarcely more than it was to
the Swiss or the Dutch, who had left the Empire centuries before. The inhabitants of the
Rhenish Provinces had murmured for a while at the extortionate rule of the Directory;
but their severance from Germany and their incorporation with a foreign race touched
no fibre of patriotic regret; and after the establishment of a better order of things under
the Consulate the annexation to France appears to have become highly popular. [93]
Among a race whose members could thus be actually conquered and annexed without
doing violence to their feelings Bonaparte had no difficulty in finding willing allies.
While the Diet dragged on its debates upon the settlement of the Empire, the minor
States pursued their bargainings with the French Government; and on the 14th of
August, 1801, Bavaria signed the first of those treaties which made the First Consul the
patron of Western Germany. Two months later a secret treaty between France and
Russia admitted the new Czar, Alexander, to a share in the reorganisation of the
Empire. The Governments of Paris and St. Petersburg pledged themselves to united
action for the purpose of maintaining an equilibrium between Austria and Prussia; and
the Czar further stipulated for the advancement of his own relatives, the Sovereigns of
Bavaria, Baden, and Würtemberg. The relationship of these petty princes to the Russian
family enabled Bonaparte to present to the Czar, as a graceful concession, the very
measure which most vitally advanced his own power in Germany. Alexander's
intervention made resistance on the part of Austria hopeless. One after another the
German Sovereigns settled with their patrons for a share in the spoil; and on the 3rd of
June, 1802, a secret agreement between France and Russia embodied the whole of
these arrangements, and disposed of almost all the Free Cities and the entire
ecclesiastical territory of the Empire.
[End of German Ecclesiastical States and forty-five Free Cities, March, 1803.]
When everything had thus been settled by the foreigners, a Committee, to which the
Diet of Ratisbon had referred the work of re-organisation, began its sessions, assisted
by a French and a Russian representative. The Scheme which had been agreed upon
between France and Russia was produced entire; and in spite of the anger and the
threats of Austria it passed the Committee with no greater delay than was inseparable
from everything connected with German affairs. The Committee presented the Scheme
to the Diet: the Diet only agitated itself as to the means of passing the Scheme without
violating those formalities which were the breath of its life. The proposed destruction
of all the Ecclesiastical States, and of forty-five out of the fifty Free Cities, would
extinguish a third part of the members of the Diet itself. If these unfortunate bodies
were permitted to vote upon the measure, their votes might result in its rejection: if
unsummoned, their absence would impair the validity of the resolution. By a
masterpiece of conscientious pedantry it was agreed that the doomed prelates and cities
should be duly called to vote in their turn, and that upon the mention each name the
answer "absent" should be returned by an officer. Thus, faithful to its formalities, the
Empire voted the destruction of its ancient Constitution; and the sovereignties of the
Ecclesiastics and Free Cities, which had lasted for so many centuries, vanished from
Europe (March, 1803). [94]
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[Effect on Germany.]
The loss was small indeed. The internal condition of the priest-ruled districts was
generally wretched; heavy ignorance, beggary, and intolerance reduced life to a gross
and dismal inertia. Except in their patronage of music, the ecclesiastical princes had
perhaps rendered no single service to Germany. The Free Cities, as a rule, were sunk in
debt; the management of their affairs had become the perquisite of a few lawyers and
privileged families. For Germany, as a nation, the destruction of these petty
sovereignties was not only an advantage but an absolute necessity. The order by which
they were superseded was not devised in the interest of Germany itself; yet even in the
arrangements imposed by the foreigner Germany gained centres from which the
institutions of modern political life entered into regions where no public authority had
yet been known beyond the court of the bishop or the feudal officers of the manor. [95]
Through the suppression of the Ecclesiastical States a Protestant majority was produced
in the Diet. The change bore witness to the decline of Austrian and of Catholic energy
during the past century; it scarcely indicated the future supremacy of the Protestant
rival of Austria; for the real interests of Germany were but faintly imaged in the Diet,
and the leadership of the race was still open to the Power which should most sincerely
identify itself with the German nation. The first result of the changed character of the
Diet was the confiscation of all landed property held by religious or charitable bodies,
even where these had never advanced the slightest claim to political independence. The
Diet declared the whole of the land held in Germany by pious foundations to be at the
disposal of the Governments for purposes of religion, of education, and of financial
relief. The more needy courts immediately seized so welcome an opportunity of
increasing their revenues. Germany lost nothing by the dissolution of some hundreds of
monasteries; the suppression of hospitals and the impoverishment of Universities was a
doubtful benefit. Through the destruction of the Ecclesiastical States and the
confiscation of Church lands, the support of an army of priests was thrown upon the
public revenues. The Elector of Cologne, who had been an indifferent civil ruler,
became a very prosperous clergyman on £20,000 a year. All the members of the
annexed or disendowed establishments, down to the acolytes and the sacristans, were
credited with annuities equal in value to what they had lost. But in the confusion
caused by war the means to satisfy these claims was not always forthcoming; and the
ecclesiastical revolution, so beneficial on the whole to the public interest, was not
effected without much severe and undeserved individual suffering.
The movement of 1803 put an end to an order of things more curious as a survival of
the mixed religious and political form of the Holy Roman Empire than important in the
actual state of Europe. The temporal power now lost by the Church in Germany had
been held in such sluggish hands that its effect was hardly visible except in a denser
prejudice and an idler life than prevailed under other Governments. The first
consequence of its downfall was that a great part of Germany which had hitherto had
no political organisation at all gained the benefit of a regular system of taxation, of
police, of civil and of criminal justice. If harsh and despotic, the Governments which
rose to power at the expense of the Church were usually not wanting in the love of
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order and uniformity. Officers of the State administered a fixed law where custom and
privilege had hitherto been the only rule. Appointments ceased to be bought or
inherited; trades and professions were thrown open; the peasant was relieved of his
heaviest feudal burdens. Among the newly consolidated States, Bavaria was the one
where the reforming impulse of the time took the strongest form. A new dynasty,
springing from the west of the Rhine, brought something of the spirit of French
liberalism into a country hitherto unsurpassed in Western Europe for its ignorance and
bigotry. [96] The Minister Montgelas, a politician of French enlightenment, entered
upon the same crusade against feudal and ecclesiastical disorder which Joseph had
inaugurated in Austria twenty years before. His measures for subjecting the clergy to
the law, and for depriving the Church of its control over education, were almost
identical with those which in 1790 had led to the revolt of Belgium; and the Bavarian
landowners now unconsciously reproduced all the mediæval platitudes of the
University of Louvain. Montgelas organised and levelled with a remorseless common
sense. Among his victims there was a class which had escaped destruction in the recent
changes. The Knights of the Empire, with their village jurisdictions, were still legally
existent; but to Montgelas such a class appeared a mere absurdity, and he sent his
soldiers to disperse their courts and to seize their tolls. Loud lamentation assailed the
Emperor at Vienna. If the dethroned bishops had bewailed the approaching extinction
of Christianity in Europe, the knights just as convincingly deplored the end of chivalry.
Knightly honour, now being swept from the earth, was proved to be the true soul of
German nationality, the invisible support of the Imperial throne. For a moment the
intervention of the Emperor forced Montgelas to withdraw his grasp from the sacred
rents and turnpikes; but the threatening storm passed over, and the example of Bavaria
was gradually followed by the neighbouring Courts.
It was to the weak and unpatriotic princes who were enriched by the French that the
knights fell victims. Among the knights thus despoiled by the Duke of Nassau was the
Ritter vom Stein, a nobleman who had entered the Prussian service in the reign of
Frederick the Great, and who had lately been placed in high office in the
newly-acquired province of Münster. Stein was thoroughly familiar with the
advantages of systematic government; the loss of his native parochial jurisdiction was
not a serious one to a man who had become a power in Prussia; and although domestic
pride had its share in Stein's resentment, the protest now published by him against the
aggressions of the Duke of Nassau sounded a different note from that of his order
generally. That a score of farmers should pay their dues and take off their hats to the
officer of the Duke of Nassau instead of to the bailiff of the Ritter vom Stein was not a
matter to excite deep feeling in Europe; but that the consolidation of Germany should
be worked out in the interest of French hirelings instead of in the interests of the
German people was justly treated by Stein as a subject for patriotic anger. In his letter
[97] to the Duke of Nassau, Stein reproached his own despoiler and the whole tribe of
petty princes with that treason to German interests which had won them the protection
of the foreigner. He argued that the knights were a far less important obstacle to
German unity than those very princes to whom the knights were sacrificed; and he
invoked that distant day which should give to Germany a real national unity, over
knights and princes alike, under the leadership of a single patriotic sovereign. Stein's
appeal found little response among his contemporaries. Like a sober man among
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drunkards, he seemed to be scarcely rational. The simple conception of a nation
sacrificing its internal rivalries in order to avert foreign rule was folly to the politicians
who had all their lives long been outwitting one another at Vienna or Berlin, or who
had just become persons of consequence in Europe through the patronage of Bonaparte.
Yet, if years of intolerable suffering were necessary before any large party in Germany
rose to the idea of German union, the ground had now at least been broken. In the
changes that followed the Peace of Lunéville the fixity and routine of Germany
received its death-blow. In all but name the Empire had ceased to exist. Change and
re-constitution in one form or another had become familiar to all men's minds; and one
real statesman at the least was already beginning to learn the lesson which later events
were to teach to the rest of the German race.
[France, 1801-1804.]
[Civil Code.]
Four years of peace separated the Treaty of Lunéville from the next outbreak of war
between France and any Continental Power. They were years of extension of French
influence in every neighbouring State; in France itself, years of the consolidation of
Bonaparte's power, and of the decline of everything that checked his personal rule. The
legislative bodies sank into the insignificance for which they had been designed;
everything that was suffered to wear the appearance of strength owed its vigour to the
personal support of the First Consul. Among the institutions which date from this
period, two, equally associated with the name of Napoleon, have taken a prominent
place in history, the Civil Code and the Concordat. Since the middle of the eighteenth
century the codification of law had been pursued with more or less success by almost
every Government in Europe. In France the Constituent Assembly of 1789 had ordered
the statutes, by which it superseded the old variety of local customs, to be thus cast into
a systematic form. A Committee of the Convention had completed the draft of a Civil
Code. The Directory had in its turn appointed a Commission; but the project still
remained unfulfilled when the Directory was driven from power. Bonaparte
instinctively threw himself into a task so congenial to his own systematising spirit, and
stimulated the efforts of the best jurists in France by his personal interest and pride in
the work of legislation. A Commission of lawyers, appointed by the First Consul,
presented the successive chapters of a Civil Code to the Council of State. In the
discussions in the Council of State Bonaparte himself took an active, though not always
a beneficial, part. The draft of each chapter, as it left the Council of State, was
submitted, as a project of Law, to the Tribunate and to the Legislative Body. For a
moment the free expression of opinion in the Tribunate caused Bonaparte to suspend
his work in impatient jealousy. The Tribunate, however, was soon brought to silence;
and in March, 1804, France received the Code which has formed from that time to the
present the basis of its civil rights.
[Napoleon as a legislator.]
When Napoleon declared that he desired his fame to rest upon the Civil Code, he
showed his appreciation of the power which names exercise over mankind. It is
probable that a majority of the inhabitants of Western Europe believe that Napoleon
actually invented the laws which bear his name. As a matter of fact, the substance of
these laws was fixed by the successive Assemblies of the Revolution; and, in the final
revision which produced the Civil Code, Napoleon appears to have originated neither
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more nor less than several of the members of his Council whose names have long been
forgotten. He is unquestionably entitled to the honour of a great legislator, not,
however, as one who, like Solon or like Mahomet, himself created a new body of law,
but as one who most vigorously pursued the work of consolidating and popularising
law by the help of all the skilled and scientific minds whose resources were at his
command. Though faulty in parts, the Civil Code, through its conciseness, its
simplicity, and its justice, enabled Napoleon to carry a new and incomparably better
social order into every country that became part of his Empire. Four other Codes,
appearing at intervals from the year 1804 to the year 1810, embodied, in a
corresponding form, the Law of Commerce, the Criminal Law, and the Rules of Civil
and of Criminal Process. [98] The whole remains a monument of the legal energy of
the period which began in 1789, and of the sagacity with which Napoleon associated
with his own rule all the science and the reforming zeal of the jurists of his day.
[The Concordat.]
Far more distinctively the work of Napoleon's own mind was the reconciliation with
the Church of Rome effected by the Concordat. It was a restoration of religion similar
to that restoration of political order which made the public service the engine of a
single will. The bishops and priests, whose appointment the Concordat transferred from
their congregations to the Government, were as much instruments of the First Consul
as his prefects and his gendarmes. The spiritual wants of the public, the craving of the
poor for religious consolation, were made the pretext for introducing the new
theological police. But the situation of the Catholic Church was in reality no worse in
France at the commencement of the Consulate than its present situation in Ireland. The
Republic had indeed subjected the non-juring priests to the heaviest penalties, but the
exercise of Christian worship, which, even in the Reign of Terror, had only been
interrupted by local and individual fanaticism, had long recovered the protection of the
law, services in the open air being alone prohibited. [99] Since 1795 the local
authorities had been compelled to admit the religious societies of their district to the
use of church-buildings. Though the coup d'état of Fructidor, 1797, renewed the
persecution of non-juring priests, it in no way checked the activity of the Constitutional
Church, now free from all connection with the Civil Government. While the non-juring
priests, exiled as political offenders, or theatrically adoring the sacred elements in the
woods, pretended that the age of the martyrs had returned to France, a Constitutional
Church, ministering in 4,000 parishes, unprivileged but unharassed by the State,
supplied the nation with an earnest and respectable body of clergy. [100] But in the
eyes of the First Consul everything left to voluntary association was so much lost to the
central power. In the order of nature, peasants must obey priests, priests must obey
bishops, and bishops must obey the First Consul. An alliance with the Pope offered to
Bonaparte the means of supplanting the popular organisation of the Constitutional
Church by an imposing hierarchy, rigid in its orthodoxy and unquestioning in its
devotion to himself. In return for the consecration of his own rule, Bonaparte did not
shrink from inviting the Pope to an exercise of authority such as the Holy See had
never even claimed in France. The whole of the existing French Bishops, both the
exiled non-jurors and those of the Constitutional Church, were summoned to resign
their Sees into the hands of the Pope; against all who refused to do so sentence of
deposition was pronounced by the Pontiff, without a word heard in defence, or the
shadow of a fault alleged. The Sees were re-organised, and filled up by nominees of the
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First Consul. The position of the great body of the clergy was substantially altered in its
relation to the Bishops. Episcopal power was made despotic, like all other power in
France: thousands of the clergy, hitherto secure in their livings, were placed at the
disposal of their bishop, and rendered liable to be transferred at the pleasure of their
superior from place to place. The Constitutional Church vanished, but religion
appeared to be honoured by becoming part of the State.
[Results in Ultramontanism.]
In its immediate action, the Napoleonic Church served the purpose for which it was
intended. For some few years the clergy unflaggingly preached, prayed, and catechised
to the glory of their restorer. In the greater cycle of religious change, the Concordat of
Bonaparte appears in another light. However little appreciated at the time, it was the
greatest, the most critical, victory which the Roman See has ever gained over the more
enlightened and the more national elements in the Catholic Church. It converted the
Catholicism of France from a faith already far more independent than that of Fénélon
and Bossuet into the Catholicism which in our own day has outstripped the bigotry of
Spain and Austria in welcoming the dogma of Papal infallibility. The lower clergy,
condemned by the State to an intolerable subjection, soon found their only hope in an
appeal to Rome, and instinctively worked as the emissaries of the Roman See. The
Bishops, who owed their office to an unprecedented exercise of Papal power and to the
destruction of religious independence in France, were not the men who could maintain
a struggle with the Papacy for the ancient Gallican liberties. In the resistance to the
Papacy which had been maintained by the Continental Churches in a greater or less
degree during the eighteenth century, France had on the whole taken the most effective
part; but, from the time when the Concordat dissolved both the ancient and the
revolutionary Church system of France, the Gallican tradition of the past became as
powerless among the French clergy as the philosophical liberalism of the Revolution.
In Germany the destruction of the temporal power of the Church tended equally to
Ultramontanism. An archbishop of Cologne who governed half a million subjects was
less likely to prostrate himself before the Papal Chair than an archbishop of Cologne
who was only one among a regiment of churchmen. The spiritual Electors and Princes
who lost their dominions in 1801 had understood by the interests of their order
something more tangible than a body of doctrines. When not hostile to the Papacy, they
had usually treated it with indifference. The conception of a Catholic society exposed
to persecution at the hands of the State on account of its devotion to Rome was one
which had never entered the mind of German ecclesiastics in the eighteenth century.
Without the changes effected in Germany by the Treaty of Lunéville, without the
Concordat of Bonaparte, Catholic orthodoxy would never have become identical with
Ultramontanism. In this respect the opening years of the present century mark a
turning-point in the relation of the Church to modern life. Already, in place of the old
monarchical Governments, friendly on the whole to the Catholic Church, events were
preparing the way for that changed order with which the century seems destined to
close-an emancipated France, a free Italy, a secular, state-disciplined Germany, and the
Church in conspiracy against them all.
CHAPTER V. 119
The Project Gutenberg eBook of History of Modern Europe 1792-1878, by C. A. Fyffe
CHAPTER VI.
War was renewed between France and Great Britain in the spring of 1803. Addington's
Government, in their desire for peace, had borne with Bonaparte's aggressions during
all the months of negotiation at Amiens; they had met his complaints against the abuse
of the English press by prosecuting his Royalist libellers; throughout the Session of
1802 they had upheld the possibility of peace against the attacks of their parliamentary
opponents. The invasion of Switzerland in the autumn of 1802, following the
annexation of Piedmont, forced the Ministry to alter its tone. The King's Speech at the
meeting of Parliament in November declared that the changes in operation on the
Continent demanded measures of security on the part of Great Britain. The naval and
military forces of the country were restored to a war-footing; the evacuation of Malta
by Great Britain, which had hitherto been delayed chiefly through a misunderstanding
with Russia, was no longer treated as a matter of certainty. While the English
Government still wavered, a challenge was thrown down by the First Consul which
forced them into decided action. The Moniteur published on the 13th of January, 1803,
a report upon Egypt by Colonel Sebastiani, pointing in the plainest terms to the renewal
of French attacks upon the East. The British Government demanded explanations, and
declared that until satisfaction was given upon this point they should retain possession
of Malta. Malta was in fact appropriated by Great Britain as an equivalent for the
Continental territory added to France since the end of the war. [101]
So long as England was without Continental allies its warfare was limited to the seizure
of colonies and the blockade of ports: on the part of France nothing could be effected
against the island Power except by actual invasion. There was, however, among the
communities of Germany one which, in the arguments of a conqueror, might be treated
as a dependency of England, and made to suffer for its connection with the British
Crown. Hanover had hitherto by common agreement been dissociated from the wars in
which its Elector engaged as King of England; even the personal presence of King
George II. at the battle of Dettingen had been held no ground for violating its
neutrality. Bonaparte, however, was untroubled by precedents in a case where he had
so much to gain. Apart from its value as a possible object of exchange in the next treaty
with England, Hanover would serve as a means of influencing Prussia: it was also
worth so many millions in cash through the requisitions which might be imposed upon
its inhabitants. The only scruple felt by Bonaparte in attacking Hanover arose from the
possibility of a forcible resistance on the part of Prussia to the appearance of a French
army in North Germany. Accordingly, before the invasion began, General Duroc was
sent to Berlin to inform the King of the First Consul's intentions, and to soothe any
irritation that might be felt at the Prussian Court by assurances of friendship and
respect.
It was a moment of the most critical importance to Prussia. Prussia was the recognised
guardian of Northern Germany; every consideration of interest and of honour required
that its Government should forbid the proposed occupation of Hanover-if necessary, at
the risk of actual war. Hanover in the hands of France meant the extinction of German
independence up to the frontiers of the Prussian State. If, as it was held at Berlin, the
cause of Great Britain was an unjust one, and if the connection of Hanover with the
British Crown was for the future to make that province a scapegoat for the offences of
England, the wisest course for Prussia would have been to deliver Hanover at once
Such a proposal marked the depth to which Prussian statemanship had sunk; it failed to
affect the First Consul in the slightest degree. While negotiations were still proceeding,
a French division, commanded by General Mortier, entered Hanover (May, 1803). The
Hanoverian army was lost through the follies of the civil Government; the Duke of
Cambridge, commander of one of its divisions, less ingenious than his brother the Duke
of York in finding excuses for capitulation, resigned his commission, and fled to
England, along with many brave soldiers, who subsequently found in the army of Great
Britain the opportunity for honourable service which was denied to them at home.
Hanover passed into the possession of France, and for two years the miseries of French
occupation were felt to the full. Extortion consumed the homely wealth of the country;
the games and meetings of the people were prohibited; French spies violated the
confidences of private life; law was administered by foreign soldiers; the press existed
only for the purpose of French proselytism. It was in Hanover that the bitterness of that
oppression was first felt which subsequently roused all North Germany against a
foreign master, and forced upon the race the long-forgotten claims of patriotism and
honour.
Bonaparte had justly calculated upon the inaction of the Prussian Government when he
gave the order to General Mortier to enter Hanover; his next step proved the growth of
his confidence in Prussia's impassivity. A French force was despatched to Cuxhaven, at
the mouth of the Elbe, in order to stop the commerce of Great Britain with the interior
of Germany. The British Government immediately informed the Court of Berlin that it
should blockade the Elbe and the Weser against the ships of all nations unless the
French soldiers withdrew from the Elbe. As the linen trade of Silesia and other
branches of Prussian industry depended upon the free navigation of the Elbe, the
threatened reprisals of the British Government raised very serious questions for
Prussia. It was France, not England, that had first violated the neutrality of the river
highway; and the King of Prussia now felt himself compelled to demand assurances
Bonaparte that the interests of Germany should suffer no further injury at his hands. A
[Alexander displeased.]
There was, however, a Power which watched the advance of French dominion into
Northern Germany with less complaisance than the Germans themselves. The Czar of
Russia had gradually come to understand the part allotted to him by Bonaparte since
the Peace of Lunéville, and was no longer inclined to serve as the instrument of French
ambition. Bonaparte's occupation of Hanover changed the attitude of Alexander into
one of coldness and distrust. Alexander saw and lamented the help which he himself
had given to Bonaparte in Germany: events that now took place in France itself, as well
as the progress of French intrigues in Turkey, [104] threw him into the arms of
Bonaparte's enemies, and prepared the way for a new European coalition.
The First Bonaparte Consul had determined to assume the dignity of Emperor. The
renewal of war with England excited a new outburst of enthusiasm for his person;
nothing was wanting to place the crown on his head but the discovery of a plot against
his life. Such a plot had been long and carefully followed by the police. A Breton
gentleman, Georges Cadoudal, had formed the design of attacking the First Consul in
the streets of Paris in the midst of his guards. Cadoudal and his fellow-conspirators,
including General Pichegru, were traced by the police from the coast of Normandy to
Paris: an unsuccessful attempt was made to lure the Count of Artois, and other royal
If some barbaric instinct made the slaughter of his predecessor's kindred in Bonaparte's
own eyes the omen of a successful usurpation, it was not so with Europe generally. One
universal sense of horror passed over the Continent. The Court of Russia put on
mourning; even the Diet of Ratisbon showed signs of human passion at the indignity
done to Germany by the seizure of the Duke of Enghien on German soil. Austria kept
silent, but watched the signs of coming war. France alone showed no pity. Before the
Duke of Enghien had been dead a week, the Senate besought Napoleon to give to
France the security of a hereditary throne. Prefects, bishops, mayors, and councils with
one voice repeated the official prayer. A resolution in favour of imperial rule was
brought forward in the Tribunate, and passed, after a noble and solitary protest on the
part of Carnot. A decree of the Senate embodied the terms of the new Constitution; and
on the 18th of May, without waiting for the sanction of a national vote, Napoleon
assumed the title of Emperor of the French.
In France itself the change was one more of the name than of the substance of power.
Napoleon could not be vested with a more absolute authority than he already
possessed; but the forms of republican equality vanished; and although the real social
equality given to France by the Revolution was beyond reach of change, the nation had
to put up with a bastard Court and a fictitious aristocracy of Corsican princes, Terrorist
excellencies, and Jacobin dukes. The new dynasty was recognised at Vienna and
Berlin: on the part of Austria it received the compliment of an imitation. Three months
after the assumption of the Imperial title by Napoleon, the Emperor Francis (Emperor
in Germany, but King in Hungary and Bohemia) assumed the title of Emperor of all his
Austrian dominions. The true reason for this act was the virtual dissolution of the
Germanic system by the Peace of Lunéville, and the probability that the old Imperial
dignity, if preserved in name, would soon be transferred to some client of Napoleon or
[Coalition of 1805.]
Almost at the same time that Bonaparte ascended the throne, Pitt returned to power in
Great Britain. He was summoned by the general distrust felt in Addington's Ministry,
and by the belief that no statesman but himself could rally the Powers of Europe
against the common enemy. Pitt was not long in framing with Russia the plan of a third
Coalition. The Czar broke off diplomatic intercourse with Napoleon in September,
1804, and induced the Court of Vienna to pledge itself to resist any further extension of
French power. Sweden entered into engagements with Great Britain. On the opening of
Parliament at the beginning of 1805, King George III. announced that an understanding
existed between Great Britain and Russia, and asked in general terms for a provision
for Continental subsidies. In April, a treaty was signed at St. Petersburg by the
representatives of Russia and Great Britain, far more comprehensive and more serious
in its provisions than any which had yet united the Powers against France. [107] Russia
and England bound themselves to direct their efforts to the formation of a European
League capable of placing five hundred thousand men in the field. Great Britain
undertook to furnish subsidies to every member of the League; no peace was to be
concluded with France but by common consent; conquests made by any of the
belligerents were to remain unappropriated until the general peace; and at the
termination of the war a Congress was to fix certain disputed points of international
right, and to establish a federative European system for their maintenance and
enforcement. As the immediate objects of the League, the treaty specified the expulsion
of the French from Holland, Switzerland, Italy, and Northern Germany; the
re-establishment of the King of Sardinia in Piedmont, with an increase of territory; and
the creation of a solid barrier against any future usurpations of France. The last
expression signified the union of Holland and part of Belgium under the House of
Orange. In this respect, as in the provision for a common disposal of conquests and for
the settlement of European affairs by a Congress, the Anglo-Russian Treaty of 1805
defined the policy actually carried out in 1814. Other territorial changes now suggested
by Pitt, including the annexation of the Rhenish Provinces to the Prussian Monarchy,
were not embodied in the treaty, but became from this time understood possibilities.
[Policy of Prussia.]
[Prussia neutral.]
Pitt, the author of the Coalition of 1805, had formed the most sanguine estimate of the
armaments of his allies. Austria was said to have entered upon a new era since the
peace of Lunéville, and to have turned to the best account all the disasters of its former
campaigns. There had indeed been no want of fine professions from Vienna, but Pitt
knew little of the real state of affairs. The Archduke Charles had been placed at the
head of the military administration, and entrusted with extraordinary powers; but the
whole force of routine and corruption was ranged against him. He was deceived by his
subordinates; and after three years of reorganisation he resigned his post, confessing
that he left the army no nearer efficiency than it was before. Charles was replaced at the
If the military reforms of Austria were delusive, its political reforms were still more so.
The Emperor had indeed consented to unite the Ministers, who had hitherto worked
independently, in a Council of State; but here reform stopped. Cobenzl, who was now
First Minister, understood nothing but diplomacy. Men continued in office whose
presence was an insuperable bar to any intelligent action: even in that mechanical
routine which, in the eyes of the Emperor Francis, constituted the life of the State,
everything was antiquated and self-contradictory. In all that affected the mental life of
the people the years that followed the peace of Lunéville were distinctly retrograde.
Education was placed more than ever in the hands of the priests; the censorship of the
press was given to the police; a commission was charged with the examination of all
the books printed during the reign of the Emperor Joseph, and above two thousand
works, which had come into being during that brief period of Austrian liberalism, were
suppressed and destroyed. Trade regulations were issued which combined the
extravagance of the French Reign of Terror with the ignorance of the Middle Ages. All
the grain in the country was ordered to be sold before a certain date, and the Jews were
prohibited from carrying on the corn-trade for a year. Such were the reforms described
by Pitt in the English Parliament as having effected the regeneration of Austria. Nearer
home things were judged in a truer light. Mack's paper-regiments, the helplessness and
unreality of the whole system of Austrian officialism, were correctly appreciated by the
men who had been most in earnest during the last war. Even Thugut now thought a
contest hopeless. The Archduke Charles argued to the end for peace, and entered upon
the war with the presentiment of defeat and ruin.
The plans of the Allies for the campaign of 1805 covered an immense field. [111] It
was intended that one Austrian army should operate in Lombardy under the Archduke
Charles, while a second, under General Mack, entered Bavaria, and there awaited the
arrival of the Russians, who were to unite with it in invading France: British and
Russian contingents were to combine with the King of Sweden in Pomerania, and with
the King of Naples in Southern Italy. At the head-quarters of the Allies an impression
prevailed that Napoleon was unprepared for war. It was even believed that his character
had lost something of its energy under the influence of an Imperial Court. Never was
there a more fatal illusion. The forces of France had never been so overwhelming; the
plans of Napoleon had never been worked out with greater minuteness and certainty.
From Hanover to Strasburg masses of troops had been collected upon the frontier in
readiness for the order to march; and, before the campaign opened, the magnificent
army of Boulogne, which had been collected for the invasion of England, was thrown
into the scale against Austria.
It only remained for Napoleon to avenge himself upon Austria through the army which
was baulked of its English prey. On the 1st of September, when the Austrians were
now on the point of crossing the Inn, the camp of Boulogne was broken up. The army
turned eastwards, and distributed itself over all the roads leading from the Channel to
the Rhine and the Upper Danube. Far on the north-east the army of Hanover,
commanded by Bernadotte, moved as its left wing, and converged upon a point in
Southern Germany half-way between the frontiers of France and Austria. In the fables
that long disguised the true character of every action of Napoleon, the admirable order
of march now given to the French armies appears as the inspiration of a moment, due to
the rebound of Napoleon's genius after learning the frustration of all his naval plans. In
reality, the employment of the "Army of England" against a Continental coalition had
always been an alternative present to Napoleon's mind; and it was threateningly
The only advantage which the Allies derived from the remoteness of the Channel army
was that Austria was able to occupy Bavaria without resistance. General Mack, who
was charged with this operation, crossed the Inn on the 8th of September. The Elector
of Bavaria was known to be secretly hostile to the Coalition. The design of preventing
his union with the French was a correct one; but in the actual situation of the allied
armies it was one that could not be executed without great risk. The preparations of
Russia required more time than was allowed for them; no Russian troops could reach
the Inn before the end of October; and, in consequence, the entire force operating in
Western Germany did not exceed seventy thousand men. Any doubts, however, as to
the prudence of an advance through Bavaria were silenced by the assurance that
Napoleon had to bring the bulk of his army from the British Channel. [113] In
ignorance of the real movements of the French, Mack pushed on to the western limit of
Bavaria, and reached the river Iller, the border of Würtemberg, where he intended to
stand on the defensive until the arrival of the Russians.
Here, in the first days of October, he became aware of the presence of French troops,
not only in front but to the east of his own position. With some misgiving as to the
situation of the enemy, Mack nevertheless refused to fall back from Ulm. Another
week revealed the true state of affairs. Before the Russians were anywhere near
Bavaria, the vanguard of Napoleon's Army of the Channel and the Army of Hanover
had crossed North-Western Germany, and seized the roads by which Mack had
advanced from Vienna. Every hour that Mack remained in Ulm brought new divisions
of the French into the Bavarian towns and villages behind him. Escape was only
possible by a retreat into the Tyrol, or by breaking through the French line while it was
yet incompletely formed. Resolute action might still have saved the Austrian army; but
the only energy that was shown was shown in opposition to the general. The Archduke
Ferdinand, who was the titular commander-in-chief, cut his way through the French
with part of the cavalry; Mack remained in Ulm, and the iron circle closed around him.
At the last moment, after the hopelessness of the situation had become clear even to
himself, Mack was seized by an illusion that some great disaster had befallen the
French in their rear, and that in the course of a few days Napoleon would be in full
retreat. "Let no man utter the word 'Surrender'"-he proclaimed in an order of October
15th-"the enemy is in the most fearful straits; it is impossible that he can continue more
than a few days in the neighbourhood. If provisions run short, we have three thousand
horses to nourish us." "I myself," continued the general, "will be the first to eat
horseflesh." Two days later the inevitable capitulation took place; and Mack with
25,000 men, fell into the hands of the enemy without striking a blow. A still greater
number of the Austrians outside Ulm surrendered in detachments. [114]
[Effects.]
The consequences of Trafalgar lay in the future; the military situation in Germany after
Mack's catastrophe was such that nothing could keep the army of Napoleon out of
Vienna. In the sudden awakening of Europe to its danger, one solitary gleam of hope
appeared in the attitude of the Prussian Court. Napoleon had not scrupled, in his
anxiety for the arrival of the Army of Hanover, to order Bernadotte, its commander, to
march through the Prussian territory of Anspach, which lay on his direct route towards
Ulm. It was subsequently alleged by the Allies that Bernadotte's violation of Prussian
neutrality had actually saved him from arriving too late to prevent Mack's escape; but,
apart from all imaginary grounds of reproach, the insult offered to Prussia by Napoleon
was sufficient to incline even Frederick William to decided action. Some weeks earlier
the approach of Russian forces to his frontier had led Frederick William to arm; the
French had now more than carried out what the Russians had only suggested. When the
outrage was made known to the King of Prussia, that cold and reserved monarch
displayed an emotion which those who surrounded him had seldom witnessed. [115]
The Czar was forthwith offered a free passage for his armies through Silesia; and,
before the news of Mack's capitulation reached the Russian frontier, Alexander himself
was on the way to Berlin. The result of the deliberations of the two monarchs was the
Treaty of Potsdam, signed on November 3rd. By this treaty Prussia undertook to
demand from Napoleon an indemnity for the King of Piedmont, and the evacuation of
Germany, Switzerland, and Holland: failing Napoleon's acceptance of Prussia's
Napoleon was now close upon Vienna. A few days after the capitulation of Ulm thirty
thousand Russians, commanded by General Kutusoff, had reached Bavaria; but Mack's
disaster rendered it impossible to defend the line of the Inn, and the last detachments of
the Allies disappeared as soon as Napoleon's vanguard approached the river. The
French pushed forth in overpowering strength upon the capital. Kutusoff and the
weakened Austrian army could neither defend Vienna nor meet the invader in the field.
It was resolved to abandon the city, and to unite the retreating forces on the northern
side of the Danube with a second Russian army now entering Moravia. On the 7th of
November the Court quitted Vienna. Six days later the French entered the capital, and
by an audacious stratagem of Murat's gained possession of the bridge connecting the
city with the north bank of the Danube, at the moment when the Austrian gunners were
about to blow it into the air. [116] The capture of this bridge deprived the allied army of
the last object protecting it from Napoleon's pursuit. Vienna remained in the possession
of the French. All the resources of a great capital were now added to the means of the
conqueror; and Napoleon prepared to follow his retreating adversary beyond the
Danube, and to annihilate him before he could reach his supports.
The retreat of the Russian army into Moravia was conducted with great skill by
General Kutusoff, who retorted upon Murat the stratagem practised at the bridge of
Vienna, and by means of a pretended armistice effected his junction with the
newly-arrived Russian corps between Olmütz and Brünn. Napoleon's anger at the
escape of his prey was shown in the bitterness of his attacks upon Murat. The junction
of the allied armies in Moravia had in fact most seriously altered the prospects of the
war. For the first time since the opening of the campaign, the Allies had concentrated a
force superior in numbers to anything that Napoleon could bring against it. It was
impossible for Napoleon, while compelled to protect himself on the Italian side, to lead
more than 70,000 men into Moravia. The Allies had now 80,000 in camp, with the
prospect of receiving heavy reinforcements. The war, which lately seemed to be at its
close, might now, in the hands of a skilful general, be but beginning. Although the lines
of Napoleon's communication with France were well guarded, his position in the heart
of Europe exposed him to many perils; the Archduke Charles had defeated Massena at
Caldiero on the Adige, and was hastening northwards; above all, the army of Prussia
was preparing to enter the field. Every mile that Napoleon advanced into Moravia
increased the strain upon his resources; every day that postponed the decision of the
campaign brought new strength to his enemies. Merely to keep the French in their
camp until a Prussian force was ready to assail their communications seemed enough to
ensure the Allies victory; and such was the counsel of Kutusoff, who made war in the
temper of the wariest diplomatist. But the scarcity of provisions was telling upon the
discipline of the army, and the Czar was eager for battle. [117] The Emperor Francis
gave way to the ardour of his allies. Weyrother, the Austrian chief of the staff, drew up
the most scientific plans for a great victory that had ever been seen even at the Austrian
head-quarters; and towards the end of November it was agreed by the two Emperors
that the allied army should march right round Napoleon's position near Brünn, and fight
a battle with the object of cutting off his retreat upon Vienna.
It was in the days immediately preceding the intended battle, and after Napoleon had
divined the plans of his enemy, that Count Haugwitz, bearing the demands of the
Cabinet of Berlin, reached the French camp at Brünn. [118] Napoleon had already
heard something of the Treaty of Potsdam, and was aware that Haugwitz had started
from Berlin. He had no intention of making any of those concessions which Prussia
required; at the same time it was of vital importance to him to avoid the issue of a
declaration of war by Prussia, which would nerve both Austria and Russia to the last
extremities. He therefore resolved to prevent Haugwitz by every possible method from
delivering his ultimatum, until a decisive victory over the allied armies should have
entirely changed the political situation. The Prussian envoy himself played into
Napoleon's hands. Haugwitz had obtained a disgraceful permission from his sovereign
to submit to all Napoleon's wishes, if, before his arrival, Austria should be separately
treating for peace; and he had an excuse for delay in the fact that the military
preparations of Prussia were not capable of being completed before the middle of
December. He passed twelve days on the journey from Berlin, and presented himself
before Napoleon on the 28th of November. The Emperor, after a long conversation,
requested that he would proceed to Vienna and transact business with Talleyrand. He
was weak enough to permit himself to be removed to a distance with his ultimatum to
Napoleon undelivered. When next the Prussian Government heard of their envoy, he
was sauntering in Talleyrand's drawing-rooms at Vienna, with the cordon of the French
Legion of Honour on his breast, exchanging civilities with officials who politely
declined to enter upon any question of business.
Haugwitz once removed to Vienna, and the Allies thus deprived of the certainty that
Prussia would take the field, Napoleon trusted that a single great defeat would suffice
to break up the Coalition. The movements of the Allies were exactly those which he
expected and desired. He chose his own positions between Brünn and Austerlitz in the
full confidence of victory; and on the morning of the 2nd of December, when the mists
disappeared before a bright wintry sun, he saw with the utmost delight that the Russian
columns were moving round him in a vast arc, in execution of the turning-movement of
which he had forewarned his own army on the day before. Napoleon waited until the
foremost columns were stretched far in advance of their supports; then, throwing
Soult's division upon the gap left in the centre of the allied line, he cut the army into
halves, and crushed its severed divisions at every point along the whole line of attack.
The Allies, although they outnumbered Napoleon, believed themselves to be
overpowered by an army double their own size. The incoherence of the allied
movements was as marked as the unity and effectiveness of those of the French. It was
alleged in the army that Kutusoff, the commander-in-chief, had fallen asleep while the
Austrian Weyrother was expounding his plans for the battle; a truer explanation of the
palpable errors in the allied generalship was that the Russian commander had been
forced by the Czar to carry out a plan of which he disapproved. The destruction in the
ranks of the Allies was enormous, for the Russians fought with the same obstinacy as at
the Trebbia and at Novi. Austria had lost a second army in addition to its capital; and
Yet even now the Czar sent appeals to Berlin for help, and the negotiation begun by
Austria would possibly have been broken off if help had been given. But the Cabinet of
Frederick William had itself determined to evade its engagements; and as soon as the
news of Austerlitz reached Vienna, Haugwitz had gone over heart and soul to the
conqueror. While negotiations for peace were carried on between France and Austria, a
parallel negotiation was carried on with the envoy of Prussia; and even before the
Emperor Francis gave way to the conqueror's demands, Haugwitz signed a treaty with
Napoleon at Schönbrunn, by which Prussia, instead of attacking Napoleon, entered into
an alliance with him, and received from him in return the dominion of Hanover
(December 15, 1805). [119] Had Prussia been the defeated power at Austerlitz, the
Treaty of Schönbrunn could not have more completely reversed the policy to which
King Frederick William had pledged himself six weeks before. While Haugwitz was
making his pact with Napoleon, Hardenberg had been arranging with an English envoy
for the combination of English and Russian forces in Northern Germany. [120]
There were some among the King's advisers who declared that the treaty must be
repudiated, and the envoy disgraced. But the catastrophe of Austerlitz, and the
knowledge that the Government of Vienna was entering upon a separate negotiation,
had damped the courage of the men in power. The conduct of Haugwitz was first
excused, then supported, then admired. The Duke of Brunswick disgraced himself by
representing to the French Ambassador in Berlin that the whole course of Prussian
policy since the beginning of the campaign had been an elaborate piece of
dissimulation in the interest of France. The leaders of the patriotic party in the army
found themselves without influence or following; the mass of the nation looked on with
the same stupid unconcern with which it had viewed every event of the last twenty
years. The King finally decided that the treaty by which Haugwitz had thrown the
obligations of his country to the winds should be ratified, with certain modifications,
including one that should nominally reserve to King George III. a voice in the disposal
of Hanover. [121]
Ten days after the departure of the Prussian envoy from Vienna, peace was concluded
between France and Austria by the Treaty of Presburg [122] (December 27). At the
outbreak of the war Napoleon had declared to his army that he would not again spare
Austria, as he had spared her at Campo Formio and at Lunéville; and he kept his word.
The Peace of Presburg left the Austrian State in a condition very different from that in
which it had emerged from the two previous wars. The Treaty of Campo Formio had
only deprived Austria of Belgium in order to replace it by Venice; the Settlement of
Lunéville had only substituted French for Austrian influence in Western Germany: the
Treaty that followed the battle of Austerlitz wrested from the House of Hapsburg two
Though Russia had not made peace with Napoleon, the European Coalition was at an
end. Now, as in 1801, the defeat of the Austrian armies left the Neapolitan Monarchy
to settle its account with the conqueror. Naples had struck no blow; but it was only
through the delays of the Allies that the Neapolitan army had not united with an
English and a Russian force in an attack upon Lombardy. What had been pardoned in
1801 was now avenged upon the Bourbon despot of Naples and his Austrian Queen,
who from the first had shown such bitter enmity to France. Assuming the character of a
judge over the sovereigns of Europe, Napoleon pronounced from Vienna that the
House of Naples had ceased to reign (Dec. 27, 1805). The sentence was immediately
carried into execution. Ferdinand fled, as he had fled in 1798, to place himself under
the protection of the navy of Great Britain. The vacant throne was given by Napoleon
to his own brother, Joseph Bonaparte. Ferdinand, with the help of the English fleet,
maintained himself in Sicily. A thread of sea two miles broad was sufficient barrier
against the Power which had subdued half the Continent; and no attempt was made
either by Napoleon or his brother to gain a footing beyond the Straits of Messina. In
Southern Italy the same fanatical movements took place among the peasantry as in the
previous period of French occupation. When the armies of Austria and Russia were
crushed, and the continent lay at the mercy of France, Great Britain imagined that it
could effect something against Napoleon in a corner of Italy, with the help of some
ferocious villagers. A British force, landing near Maida, on the Calabrian coast, in the
summer of 1806, had the satisfaction of defeating the French at the point of the
bayonet, of exciting a horde of priests and brigands to fruitless barbarities, and of
abandoning them to their well-merited chastisement.
The elevation of Napoleon's brother Joseph to the throne of Naples was the first of a
series of appointments now made by Napoleon in the character of Emperor of the West.
He began to style himself the new Charlemagne; his thoughts and his language were
filled with pictures of universal sovereignty; his authority, as a military despot who had
crushed his neighbours, became strangely confused in his own mind with that
half-sacred right of the Cæsars from which the Middle Ages derived all subordinate
forms of power. He began to treat the government of the different countries of Western
Europe as a function to be exercised by delegation from himself. Even the territorial
More statesmanlike, more practical than Napoleon's dynastic policy, was his
organisation of Western Germany under its native princes as a dependency of France.
The object at which all French politicians had aimed since the outbreak of the
Revolutionary War, the exclusion of both Austria and Prussia from influence in
Western Germany, was now completely attained. The triumph of French statesmanship,
the consummation of two centuries of German discord, was seen in the Act of
Federation subscribed by the Western German Sovereigns in the summer of 1806. By
this Act the Kings of Bavaria and Würtemberg, the Elector of Baden, and thirteen
minor princes, united themselves, in the League known as the Rhenish Confederacy,
under the protection of the French Emperor, and undertook to furnish contingents,
amounting to 63,000 men, in all wars in which the French Empire should engage. Their
connection with the ancient Germanic Body was completely severed; the very town in
which the Diet of the Empire had held its meetings was annexed by one of the
members of the Confederacy. The Confederacy itself, with a population of 8,000,000,
became for all purposes of war and foreign policy a part of France. Its armies were
organised by French officers; its frontiers were fortified by French engineers; its
treaties were made for it at Paris. In the domestic changes which took place within
these States the work of consolidation begun in 1801 was carried forward with
increased vigour. Scores of tiny principalities which had escaped dissolution in the
earlier movement were now absorbed by their stronger neighbours. Governments
became more energetic, more orderly, more ambitious. The princes who made
themselves the vassals of Napoleon assumed a more despotic power over their own
subjects. Old constitutional forms which had imposed some check on the will of the
sovereign, like the Estates of Würtemberg, were contemptuously suppressed; the
careless, ineffective routine of the last age gave place to a system of rigorous precision
throughout the public services. Military service was enforced in countries hitherto free
from it. The burdens of the people became greater, but they were more fairly
distributed. The taxes were more equally levied; justice was made more regular and
more simple. A career both in the army and the offices of Government was opened to a
people to whom the very conception of public life had hitherto been unknown.
With the establishment of the Rhenish Confederacy and the conquest of Naples,
Napoleon's empire reached, but did not overpass, the limits within which the
sovereignty of France might probably have been long maintained. It has been usual to
CHAPTER VII.
Death of Pitt-Ministry of Fox and Grenville-Napoleon forces Prussia into War with
England, and then offers Hanover to England-Prussia resolves on War with
Napoleon-State of Prussia-Decline of the Army-Southern Germany with
Napoleon-Austria Neutral-England and Russia about to help Prussia, but not
immediately-Campaign of 1806-Battles of Jena and Auerstädt-Ruin of the Prussian
Army-Capitulation of Fortresses-Demands of Napoleon-The War continues-Berlin
Decree-Exclusion of English Goods from the Continent-Russia enters the
War-Campaign in Poland and East Prussia-Eylau-Treaty of
Bartenstein-Friedland-Interview at Tilsit-Alliance of Napoleon and Alexander-Secret
Articles-English Expedition to Denmark-The French enter Portugal-Prussia after the
Peace of Tilsit-Stein's Edict of Emancipation-The Prussian Peasant-Reform of the
Prussian Army, and Creation of Municipalities-Stein's other Projects of Reform, which
Six weeks after the tidings of Austerlitz reached Great Britain, the statesman who had
been the soul of every European coalition against France was carried to the grave. [124]
Pitt passed away at a moment of the deepest gloom. His victories at sea appeared to
have effected nothing; his combinations on land had ended in disaster and ruin. If
during Pitt's lifetime a just sense of the greatness and patriotism of all his aims
condoned the innumerable faults of his military administration, that personal
ascendancy which might have disarmed criticism even after the disaster of Austerlitz
belonged to no other member of his Ministry. His colleagues felt their position to be
hopeless. Though the King attempted to set one of Pitt's subordinates in the vacant
place, the prospects of Europe were too dark, the situation of the country too serious, to
allow a Ministry to be formed upon the ordinary principles of party-organisation or in
accordance with the personal preferences of the monarch. The nation called for the
union of the ablest men of all parties in the work of government; and, in spite of the
life-long hatred of King George to Mr. Fox, a Ministry entered upon office framed by
Fox and Grenville conjointly; Fox taking the post of Foreign Secretary, with a leading
influence in the Cabinet, and yielding to Grenville the title of Premier. Addington
received a place in the Ministry, and carried with him the support of a section of the
Tory party, which was willing to countenance a policy of peace.
Fox had from the first given his whole sympathy to the French Revolution, as the cause
of freedom. He had ascribed the calamities of Europe to the intervention of foreign
Powers in favour of the Bourbon monarchy: he had palliated the aggressions of the
French Republic as the consequences of unjust and unprovoked attack: even the
extinction of liberty in France itself had not wholly destroyed his faith in the honour
and the generosity of the soldier of the Revolution. In the brief interval of peace which
in 1802 opened the Continent to English travellers, Fox had been the guest of the First
Consul. His personal feeling towards the French Government had in it nothing of that
proud and suspicious hatred which made negotiation so difficult while Pitt continued in
power. It was believed at Paris, and with good reason, that the first object of Fox on
entering upon office would be the restoration of peace. Napoleon adopted his own plan
in view of the change likely to arise in the spirit of the British Cabinet. It was his habit,
wherever he saw signs of concession, to apply more violent means of intimidation. In
the present instance he determined to work upon the pacific leanings of Fox by adding
Prussia to the forces arrayed against Great Britain. Prussia, isolated and discredited
since the battle of Austerlitz, might first be driven into hostilities with England, and
then be made to furnish the very satisfaction demanded by England as the primary
condition of peace.
Scarcely was Prussia committed to this ruinous conflict with Great Britain, when
Napoleon opened negotiations for peace with Mr. Fox's Government. The first
condition required by Great Britain was the restitution of Hanover to King George III.
It was unhesitatingly granted by Napoleon. [127] Thus was Prussia to be mocked of its
prey, after it had been robbed of all its honour. For the present, however, no rumour of
this part of the negotiation reached Berlin. The negotiation itself, which dragged on
through several months, turned chiefly upon the future ownership of Sicily. Napoleon
had in the first instance agreed that Sicily should be left in the hands of Ferdinand of
Naples, who had never been expelled from it by the French. Finding, however, that the
Russian envoy d'Oubril, who had been sent to Paris with indefinite instructions by the
Emperor Alexander, was willing to separate the cause of Russia from that of England,
From the time when Haugwitz' second treaty placed his master at Napoleon's feet,
Prussia had been subjected to an unbroken series of insults and wrongs. Murat, as Duke
of Berg, had seized upon territory allotted to Prussia in the distribution of the
ecclesiastical lands; the establishment of a North German Confederacy under Prussian
leadership was suggested by Napoleon himself, only to be summarily forbidden as soon
as Prussia attempted to carry the proposal into execution. There was scarcely a courtier
in Berlin who did not feel that the yoke of the French had become past endurance; even
Haugwitz himself now considered war as a question of time. The patriotic party in the
capital and the younger officers of the army bitterly denounced the dishonoured
Government, and urged the King to strike for the credit of his country. [128] In the
midst of this deepening agitation, a despatch arrived from Lucchesini, the Prussian
Ambassador at Paris (August 7), relating the offer of Hanover made by Napoleon to the
British Government. For nearly three months Lucchesini had caught no glimpse of the
negotiations between Great Britain and France; suddenly, on entering into conversation
with the English envoy at a dinner-party, he learnt the blow which Napoleon had
intended to deal to Prussia. Lucchesini instantly communicated with the Court of
Berlin; but his despatch was opened by Talleyrand's agents before it left Paris, and the
French Government was thus placed on its guard against the sudden explosion of
Prussian wrath. Lucchesini's despatch had indeed all the importance that Talleyrand
attributed to it. It brought that spasmodic access of resolution to the irresolute King
which Bernadotte's violation of his territory had brought in the year before. The whole
Prussian army was ordered to prepare for war; Brunswick was summoned to form plans
of a campaign; and appeals for help were sent to Vienna, to St. Petersburg, and even to
the hostile Court of London.
[Condition of Prussia.]
The condition of Prussia at this critical moment was one which filled with the deepest
alarm those few patriotic statesmen who were not blinded by national vanity or by
slavery to routine. The foreign policy of Prussia in 1805, miserable as it was, had been
[Higher officers.]
The army of Prussia, at an epoch when the conscription and the genius of Napoleon
had revolutionised the art of war, was nothing but the army of Frederick the Great
grown twenty years older. [130] It was obvious to all the world that its commissariat
and marching-regulations belonged to a time when weeks were allowed for movements
now reckoned by days; but there were circumstances less conspicuous from the outside
which had paralysed the very spirit of soldiership, and prepared the way for a military
collapse in which defeats in the field were the least dishonourable event. Old age had
rendered the majority of the higher officers totally unfit for military service. In that
barrack-like routine of officialism which passed in Prussia for the wisdom of
government, the upper ranks of the army formed a species of administrative corps in
time of peace, and received for their civil employment double the pay that they could
earn in actual war. Aged men, with the rank of majors, colonels, and generals,
mouldered in the offices of country towns, and murmured at the very mention of a war,
which would deprive them of half their salaries. Except in the case of certain princes,
who were placed in high rank while young, and of a few vigorous patriarchs like
Blücher, all the energy and military spirit of the army was to be found in men who had
not passed the grade of captain. The higher officers were, on an average, nearly double
the age of French officers of corresponding rank. [131] Of the twenty-four
lieutenant-generals, eighteen were over sixty; the younger ones, with a single
exception, were princes. Five out of the seven commanders of infantry were over
seventy; even the sixteen cavalry generals included only two who had not reached
sixty-five. These were the men who, when the armies of Prussia were beaten in the
field, surrendered its fortresses with as little concern as if they had been receiving the
French on a visit of ceremony. Their vanity was as lamentable as their
faint-heartedness. "The army of his Majesty," said General Rüchel on parade,
"possesses several generals equal to Bonaparte." Faults of another character belonged
to the generation which had grown up since Frederick. The arrogance and
licentiousness of the younger officers was such that their ruin on the field of Jena
caused positive joy to a great part of the middle classes of Prussia. But, however
hateful their manners, and however rash their self-confidence, the vices of these
younger men had no direct connection with the disasters of 1806. The gallants who
sharpened their swords on the window-sill of the French Ambassador received a bitter
lesson from the plebeian troopers of Murat; but they showed courage in disaster, and
subsequently gave to their country many officers of ability and honour.
[Common soldiers.]
What was bad in the higher grades of the army was not retrieved by any excellence on
the part of the private soldier. The Prussian army was recruited in part from foreigners,
but chiefly from Prussian serfs, who were compelled to serve. Men remained with their
regiments till old age; the rough character of the soldiers and the frequency of crimes
and desertions occasioned the use of brutal punishments, which made the military
service an object of horror to the better part of the middle and lower classes. The
soldiers themselves, who could be flogged and drilled into high military perfection by a
great general like Frederick, felt a surly indifference to their present taskmasters, and
were ready to desert in masses to their homes as soon as a defeat broke up the
regimental muster and roll-call. A proposal made in the previous year to introduce that
system of general service which has since made Prussia so great a military power was
rejected by a committee of generals, on the ground that it "would convert the most
formidable army of Europe into a militia." But whether Prussia entered the war with a
militia or a regular army, under the men who held command in 1806 it could have met
with but one fate. Neither soldiery nor fortresses could have saved a kingdom whose
generals knew only how to capitulate.
All southern Germany was still in Napoleon's hands. As the probability of a war with
Prussia became greater and greater, Napoleon had tightened his grasp upon the
Confederate States. Publications originating among the patriotic circles of Austria were
beginning to appeal to the German people to unite against a foreign oppressor. An
anonymous pamphlet, entitled "Germany in its Deep Humiliation," was sold by various
booksellers in Bavaria, among others by Palm, a citizen of Nuremberg. There is no
evidence that Palm was even acquainted with the contents of the pamphlet; but as in the
case of the Duke of Enghien, two years before, Napoleon had required a victim to
terrify the House of Bourbon, so now he required a victim to terrify those who among
the German people might be inclined to listen to the call of patriotism. Palm was not
too obscure for the new Charlemagne. The innocent and unoffending man, innocent
even of the honourable crime of attempting to save his country, was dragged before a
tribunal of French soldiers, and executed within twenty-four hours, in pursuance of the
imperative orders of Napoleon (August 26). The murder was an unnecessary one, for
the Bavarians and the Würtembergers were in fact content with the yoke they bore; its
only effect was to arouse among a patient and home-loving class the doubt whether the
German citizen and his family might not after all have some interest in the preservation
of national independence.
[Austria neutral. England and Russia can give Prussia no prompt help.]
A hundred and seventy thousand French soldiers, with contingents from the Rhenish
Confederate States, lay between the Main and the Inn. The last weeks of peace, in
which the Prussian Government imagined themselves to be deceiving the enemy while
they pushed forward their own preparations, were employed by Napoleon in quietly
concentrating this vast force upon the Main (September, 1806). Napoleon himself
appeared to be absorbed in friendly negotiations with General Knobelsdorff, the new
Prussian Ambassador at Paris. In order to lull Napoleon's suspicions, Haugwitz had
recalled Lucchesini from Paris, and intentionally deceived his successor as to the real
designs of the Prussian Cabinet. Knobelsdorff confidentially informed the Emperor that
Prussia was not serious in its preparations for war. Napoleon, caring very little whether
Prussia intended to fight or not, continued at Paris in the appearance of the greatest
calm, while his lieutenants in Southern Germany executed those unobserved
movements which were to collect the entire army upon the Upper Main. In the
meantime the advisers of King Frederick William supposed themselves to have made
everything ready for a vigorous offensive. Divisions of the Prussian army, numbering
nearly 130,000 men, were concentrated in the neighbourhood of Jena, on the Saale. The
bolder spirits in the military council pressed for an immediate advance through the
Thuringian Forest, and for an attack upon what were supposed to be the scattered
detachments of the French in Bavaria. Military pride and all the traditions of the Great
Frederick impelled Prussia to take the offensive rather than to wait for the enemy upon
the strong line of the Elbe. Political motives pointed in the same direction, for the
support of Saxony was doubtful if once the French were permitted to approach
Dresden.
On the 23rd of September King Frederick William arrived at the head-quarters of the
army, which were now at Naumburg, on the Saale. But his presence brought no
A few days after this decision had been formed, intelligence arrived at head-quarters
that Napoleon himself was upon the Rhine. Before the ultimatum reached the hands of
General Knobelsdorff in Paris, Napoleon had quitted the capital, and the astonished
Ambassador could only send the ultimatum in pursuit of him after he had gone to place
himself at the head of 200,000 men. The news that Napoleon was actually in Mainz
confounded the diplomatists in the Prussian camp, and produced an order for an
immediate advance. This was the wisest as well as the boldest determination that had
yet been formed; and an instant assault upon the French divisions on the Main might
perhaps even now have given the Prussian army the superiority in the first encounter.
But some fatal excuse was always at hand to justify Brunswick in receding from his
resolutions. A positive assurance was brought into camp by Lucchesini that Napoleon
had laid his plans for remaining on the defensive on the south of the Thuringian Forest.
If this were true, there might yet be time to improve the plan of the campaign; and on
the 4th of October, when every hour was of priceless value, the forward march was
arrested, and a new series of deliberations began at the head-quarters at Erfurt. In the
council held on the 4th of October, a total change in the plan of operations was urged
by Hohenlohe's staff. They contended, and rightly, that it was the design of Napoleon
to pass the Prussian army on the east by the valley of the Saale, and to cut it off from
the roads to the Elbe. The delay in Brunswick's movements had in fact brought the
French within striking distance of the Prussian communications. Hohenlohe urged the
King to draw back the army from Erfurt to the Saale, or even to the east of it, in order
to cover the roads to Leipzig and the Elbe. His theory of Napoleon's movements, which
was the correct one, was adopted by the council, and the advance into the Thuringian
Forest was abandoned; but instead of immediately marching eastwards with the whole
army, the generals wasted two more days in hesitations and half-measures. At length it
was agreed that Hohenlohe should take post at Jena, and that the mass of the army
should fall back to Weimar, with the object of striking a blow at some undetermined
point on the line of Napoleon's advance.
Napoleon, who had just received the Prussian ultimatum with unbounded ridicule and
contempt, was now moving along the roads that lead from Bamberg and Baireuth to the
Upper Saale. On the 10th of October, as the division of Lannes was approaching
Saalfeld, it was attacked by Prince Louis Ferdinand at the head of Hohenlohe's
advanced guard. The attack was made against Hohenlohe's orders. It resulted in the
total rout of the Prussian force. Though the numbers engaged were small, the loss of
magazines and artillery, and the death of Prince Louis Ferdinand, the hero of the
war-party, gave to this first repulse the moral effect of a great military disaster.
Hohenlohe's troops at Jena were seized with panic; numbers of men threw away their
arms and dispersed; the drivers of artillery-waggons and provision-carts cut the traces
and rode off with their horses. Brunswick, however, and the main body of the army,
were now at Weimar, close at hand; and if Brunswick had decided to fight a great battle
at Jena, the Prussians might have brought nearly 90,000 men into action. But the plans
of the irresolute commander were again changed. It was resolved to fall back upon
Magdeburg and the Elbe. Brunswick himself moved northwards to Naumburg;
Hohenlohe was ordered to hold the French in check at Jena until this movement was
completed. Napoleon reached Jena. He had no intelligence of Brunswick's retreat, and
imagined the mass of the Prussian army to be gathered round Hohenlohe, on the
plateau before him. He sent Davoust, with a corps 27,000 strong, to outflank the enemy
by a march in the direction of Naumburg, and himself prepared to make the attack in
front with 90,000 men, a force more than double Hohenlohe's real army. The attack
was made on the 14th of October. Hohenlohe's army was dashed to pieces by
Napoleon, and fled in wild disorder. Davoust's weak corps, which had not expected to
meet with any important forces until it fell upon Hohenlohe's flank, found itself in the
presence of Brunswick's main army, when it arrived at Auerstädt, a few miles to the
north. Fortune had given to the Prussian commander an extraordinary chance of
retrieving what strategy had lost. A battle conducted with common military skill would
not only have destroyed Davoust, but have secured, at least for the larger portion of the
Prussian forces, a safe retreat to Leipzig or the Elbe. The French general, availing
himself of steep and broken ground, defeated numbers nearly double his own through
the confusion of his adversary, who sent up detachment after detachment instead of
throwing himself upon Davoust with his entire strength. The fighting was as furious on
the Prussian side as its conduct was unskilful. King Frederick William, who led the
earlier cavalry charges, had two horses killed under him. Brunswick was mortally
wounded. Many of the other generals were killed or disabled. There remained,
however, a sufficient number of unbroken regiments to preserve some order in the
retreat until the army came into contact with the remnant of Hohenlohe's forces, flying
for their lives before the cavalry of Murat. Then all hope was lost. The fugitive mass
struck panic and confusion into the retreating columns; and with the exception of a few
regiments which gathered round well-known leaders, the soldiers threw away their
arms and spread over the country in headlong rout. There was no line of retreat, and no
rallying-point. The disaster of a single day made an end of the Prussian army as a force
capable of meeting the enemy in the field. A great part of the troops was captured by
the pursuing enemy during the next few days. The regiments which preserved their
coherence were too weak to make any attempt to check Napoleon's advance, and could
Two days before the battle of Jena, an English envoy, Lord Morpeth, had arrived at the
head-quarters of the King of Prussia, claiming the restoration of Hanover, and bearing
an offer of the friendship and support of Great Britain. At the moment when the
Prussian monarchy was on the point of being hurled to the ground, its Government
might have been thought likely to welcome any security that it should not be
abandoned in its utmost need. Haugwitz, however, was at head-quarters, dictating lying
bulletins, and perplexing the generals with ridiculous arguments of policy until the
French actually opened fire. When the English envoy made known his arrival, he found
that no one would transact business with him. Haugwitz had determined to evade all
negotiations until the battle had been fought. He was unwilling to part with Hanover,
and he hoped that a victory over Napoleon would enable him to meet Lord Morpeth
with a bolder countenance on the following day. When that day arrived, Ministers and
diplomatists were flying headlong over the country. The King made his escape to
Weimar, and wrote to Napoleon, begging for an armistice; but the armistice was
refused, and the pursuit of the broken army was followed up without a moment's pause.
The capital offered no safe halting-place; and Frederick William only rested when he
had arrived at Graudenz, upon the Vistula. Hohenlohe's poor remnant of an army
passed the Elbe at Magdeburg, and took the road for Stettin, at the mouth of the Oder,
leaving Berlin to its fate. The retreat was badly conducted; alternate halts and strained
marches discouraged the best of the soldiers. As the men passed their native villages
they abandoned the famishing and broken-spirited columns; and at the end of a
fortnight's disasters Prince Hohenlohe surrendered to his pursuers at Prenzlau with his
main body, now numbering only 10,000 men (Oct. 28).
[Blücher at Lübeck.]
Blücher, who had shown the utmost energy and fortitude after the catastrophe of Jena,
was moving in the rear of Hohenlohe with a considerable force which his courage had
gathered around him. On learning of Hohenlohe's capitulation, he instantly reversed his
line of march, and made for the Hanoverian fortress of Hameln, in order to continue the
war in the rear of the French. Overwhelming forces, however, cut off his retreat to the
Elbe; he was hemmed in on the east and on the west; and nothing remained for him but
to throw himself into the neutral town of Lübeck, and fight until food and ammunition
failed him. The French were at his heels. The magistrates of Lübeck prayed that their
city might not be made into a battle-field, but in vain; Blücher refused to move into the
open country. The town was stormed by the French, and put to the sack. Blücher was
driven out, desperately fighting, and pent in between the Danish frontier and the sea.
Here, surrounded by overpowering numbers, without food, without ammunition, he
capitulated on the 7th of November, after his courage and resolution had done
everything that could ennoble both general and soldiers in the midst of overwhelming
calamity.
[Napoleon's demands.]
Neither Napoleon himself nor any one else in Europe could have foreseen such conduct
on the part of the Prussian commanders. The unexpected series of capitulations made
him demand totally different terms of peace from those which he had offered after the
battle of Jena. A week after the victory, Napoleon had demanded, as the price of peace,
the cession of Prussia's territory west of the Elbe, with the exception of the town of
Magdeburg, and the withdrawal of Prussia from the affairs of Germany. These terms
were communicated to King Frederick William; he accepted them, and sent Lucchesini
to Berlin to negotiate for peace upon this basis. Lucchesini had scarcely reached the
capital when the tidings arrived of Hohenlohe's capitulation, followed by the surrender
of Stettin and Küstrin. The Prussian envoy now sought in vain to procure Napoleon's
ratification of the terms which he had himself proposed. No word of peace could be
obtained: an armistice was all that the Emperor would grant, and the terms on which
the armistice was offered rose with each new disaster to the Prussian arms. On the fall
of Magdeburg becoming known, Napoleon demanded that the troops of Prussia should
retire behind the Vistula, and surrender every fortress that they still retained, with the
single exception of Königsberg. Much as Prussia had lost, it would have cost Napoleon
a second campaign to make himself master of what he now asked; but to such a depth
had the Prussian Government sunk, that Lucchesini actually signed a convention at
Charlottenburg (November 16), surrendering to Napoleon, in return for an armistice,
the entire list of uncaptured fortresses, including Dantzig and Thorn on the Lower
Vistula, Breslau, with the rest of the untouched defences of Silesia, Warsaw and Praga
in Prussian Poland, and Colberg upon the Pomeranian coast.[133]
The treaty, however, required the King's ratification. Frederick William, timorous as he
was, hesitated to confirm an agreement which ousted him from his dominions as
completely as if the last soldier of Prussia had gone into captivity. The patriotic party,
headed by Stein, pleaded for the honour of the country against the miserable Cabinet
which now sought to complete its work of ruin. Assurances of support arrived from St.
Petersburg. The King determined to reject the treaty, and to continue the war to the last
extremity. Haugwitz hereupon tendered his resignation, and terminated a political
career disastrous beyond any recorded in modern times. For a moment, it seemed as if
the real interests of the country were at length to be recognised in the appointment of
Stein to one of the three principal offices of State. But the King still remained blind to
the necessity of unity in the government, and angrily dismissed Stein when he refused
to hold the Ministry if representatives of the old Cabinet and of the peace-party were to
have places beside him. The King's act was ill calculated to serve the interests of
Prussia, either at home or abroad. Stein was the one Minister on whom the patriotic
party of Prussia and the Governments of Europe could rely with perfect confidence.
[134] His dismissal at this crisis proved the incurable poverty of Frederick William's
mental nature; it also proved that, so long as any hope remained of saving the Prussian
State by the help of the Czar of Russia, the patriotic party had little chance of creating a
responsible government at home.
[Napoleon at Berlin.]
Immediately after signing the Berlin Decree, Napoleon quitted the Prussian capital
(Nov. 25). The first act of the war had now closed. The Prussian State was overthrown;
its territory as far as the Vistula lay at the mercy of the invader; its King was a fugitive
at Königsberg, at the eastern extremity of his dominions. The second act of the war
began with the rejection of the armistice which had been signed by Lucchesini, and
with the entry of Russia into the field against Napoleon. The scene of hostilities was
henceforward in Prussian Poland and in the Baltic Province lying between the lower
Vistula and the Russian frontier. Napoleon entered Poland, as he had entered Italy ten
years before, with the pretence of restoring liberty to an enslaved people. Kosciusko's
name was fraudulently attached to a proclamation summoning the Polish nation to
arms; and although Kosciusko himself declined to place any trust in the betrayer of
Venice, thousands of his countrymen flocked to Napoleon's standard, or anticipated his
arrival by capturing and expelling the Prussian detachments scattered through their
country. Promises of the restoration of Polish independence were given by Napoleon in
abundance; but the cause of Poland was the last to attract the sympathy of a man who
considered the sacrifice of the weak to the strong to be the first principle of all good
policy. To have attempted the restoration of Polish independence would have been to
make permanent enemies of Russia and Prussia for the sake of an ally weaker than
either of them. The project was not at this time seriously entertained by Napoleon. He
had no motive to face a work of such enormous difficulty as the creation of a solid
political order among the most unpractical race in Europe. He was glad to enrol the
Polish nobles among his soldiers; he knew the value of their enthusiasm, and took pains
to excite it; but, when the battle was over, it was with Russia, not Poland, that France
had to settle; and no better fate remained, even for the Prussian provinces of Poland,
than in part to be formed into a client-state, in part to be surrendered as a means of
The armies of Russia were at some distance from the Vistula when, in November,
1806, Napoleon entered Polish territory. Their movements were slow, their numbers
insufficient. At the moment when all the forces of the Empire were required for the
struggle against Napoleon, troops were being sent into Moldavia against the Sultan.
Nor were the Russian commanders anxious to save what still remained of the Prussian
kingdom. The disasters of Prussia, like those of Austria at the beginning of the
campaign of 1805, excited less sympathy than contempt; and the inclination of the
Czar's generals was rather to carry on the war upon the frontier of their own country
than to commit themselves to a distant campaign with a despised ally. Lestocq, who
commanded the remnant of the Prussian army upon the Vistula, was therefore directed
to abandon his position at Thorn and to move eastwards. The French crossed the
Vistula higher up the river; and by the middle of December the armies of France and
Russia lay opposite to one another in the neighbourhood of Pultusk, upon the Ukra and
the Narew. The first encounter, though not of a decisive character, resulted in the
retreat of the Russians. Heavy rains and fathomless mud checked the pursuit. War
seemed almost impossible in such a country and such a climate; and Napoleon ordered
his troops to take up their winter quarters along the Vistula, believing that nothing more
could be attempted on either side before the spring.
But the command of the Russian forces was now transferred from the aged and
half-mad Kamenski,[136] who had opened the campaign, to a general better qualified to
cope with Napoleon. Bennigsen, the new commander-in-chief, was an active and
daring soldier. Though a German by birth, his soldiership was of that dogged and
resolute order which suits the character of Russian troops; and, in the mid-winter of
1806, Napoleon found beyond the Vistula such an enemy as he had never encountered
in Western Europe. Bennigsen conceived the design of surprising the extreme left of
the French line, where Ney's division lay stretched towards the Baltic, far to the
north-east of Napoleon's main body. Forest and marsh concealed the movement of the
Russian troops, and both Ney and Bernadotte narrowly escaped destruction. Napoleon
now broke up his winter quarters, and marched in great force against Bennigsen in the
district between Königsberg and the mouth of the Vistula. Bennigsen manoeuvred and
retired until his troops clamoured for battle. He then took up a position at Eylau, and
waited for the attack of the French. The battle of Eylau, fought in the midst of
snowstorms on the 8th of February, 1807, was unlike anything that Napoleon had ever
yet seen. His columns threw themselves in vain upon the Russian infantry. Augereau's
corps was totally destroyed in the beginning of the battle. The Russians pressed upon
the ground where Napoleon himself stood; and, although the superiority of the
Emperor's tactics at length turned the scale, and the French began a forward movement,
their advance was stopped by the arrival of Lestocq and a body of 13,000 Prussians. At
the close of the engagement 30,000 men lay wounded or dead in the snow; the
positions of the armies remained what they had been in the morning. Bennigsen's
lieutenants urged him to renew the combat on the next day; but the confusion of the
Russian army was such that the French, in spite of their losses and discouragement,
would probably have gained the victory in a second battle; [137] and the Russian
commander determined to fall back towards Königsberg, content with having disabled
the enemy and given Napoleon such a check as he had never received before.
Napoleon, who had announced his intention of entering Königsberg in triumph, fell
back upon the river Passarge, and awaited the arrival of reinforcements.
[Inaction of England.]
[Treaty of Barrenstein between Russia, Prussia, England, and Sweden. April, 1807.]
The warfare of the next few months was confined to the reduction of the Prussian
fortresses which had not yet fallen into the hands of the French. Dantzig surrendered
after a long and difficult siege; the little town of Colberg upon the Pomeranian coast
prolonged a defence as honourable to its inhabitants as to the military leaders. Two
soldiers of singularly different character, each destined to play a conspicuous part in
coming years, first distinguished themselves in the defence of Colberg. Gneisenau, a
scientific soldier of the highest order, the future guide of Blücher's victorious
campaigns, commanded the garrison; Schill, a cavalry officer of adventurous daring,
gathered round him a troop of hardy riders, and harassed the French with an audacity as
perplexing to his military superiors as to the enemy. The citizens, led by their
burgomaster, threw themselves into the work of defence with a vigour in striking
contrast to the general apathy of the Prussian people; and up to the end of the war
Colberg remained uncaptured. Obscure as Colberg was, its defence might have given a
new turn to the war if the Government of Great Britain had listened to the entreaties of
the Emperor Alexander, and despatched a force to the Baltic to threaten the
communications of Napoleon. The task was not a difficult one for a Power which could
find troops, as England now did, to send to Constantinople, to Alexandria, and to
Buenos Ayres; but military judgment was more than ever wanting to the British
Cabinet. Fox had died at the beginning of the war; his successors in Grenville's
Ministry, though they possessed a sound theory of foreign policy, [138] were not
fortunate in its application, nor were they prompt enough in giving financial help to
their allies. Suddenly, however, King George quarrelled with his Ministers upon the
ancient question of Catholic Disabilities, and drove them from office (March 24). The
country sided with the King. A Ministry came into power, composed of the old
supporters of Pitt, men, with the exception of Canning and Castlereagh, of narrow
views and poor capacity, headed by the Duke of Portland, who, in 1793, had given his
name to the section of the Whig party which joined Pitt. The foreign policy of the new
Cabinet, which concealed its total lack of all other statesmanship, returned to the lines
laid down by Pitt in 1805. Negotiations were opened with Russia for the despatch of an
English army to the Baltic; arms and money were promised to the Prussian King. For a
moment it seemed as if the Powers of Europe had never been united in so cordial a
league. The Czar embraced the King of Prussia in the midst of his soldiers, and
declared with tears that the two should stand or fall together. The Treaty of Bartenstein,
signed in April 1807 pledged the Courts of St. Petersburg, Stockholm, and Berlin to a
joint prosecution of the war, and the common conclusion of peace. Great Britain joined
the pact, and prepared to fulfil its part in the conflict upon the Baltic. But the task was a
difficult one, for Grenville's Ministry had dispersed the fleet of transports; and,
although Canning determined upon the Baltic expedition in April, two months passed
before the fleet was ready to sail.
[Battle of Friedland.]
In the meantime army upon army was moving to the support of Napoleon, from France,
from Spain, from Holland, and from Southern Germany. The fortresses of the Elbe and
the Oder, which ought to have been his barrier, had become his base of operations; and
so enormous were the forces at his command, that, after manning every stronghold in
Central Europe, he was able at the beginning of June to bring 140,000 men into the
field beyond the Vistula. The Russians had also received reinforcements, but
Bennigsen's army was still weaker than that of the enemy. It was Bennigsen,
nevertheless, who began the attack; and now, as in the winter campaign, he attempted
to surprise and crush the northern corps of Ney. The same general movement of the
French army followed as in January. The Russian commander, outnumbered by the
French, retired to his fortified camp at Heilsberg. After sustaining a bloody repulse in
an attack upon this position, Napoleon drew Bennigsen from his lair by marching
straight upon Königsberg. Bennigsen supposed himself to be in time to deal with an
isolated corps; he found himself face to face with the whole forces of the enemy at
Friedland, accepted battle, and was unable to save his army from a severe and decisive
defeat (June 14). The victory of Friedland brought the French into Königsberg.
Bennigsen retired behind the Niemen; and on the 19th of June an armistice closed the
operations of the hostile forces upon the frontiers of Russia. [139]
The situation of Bennigsen's army was by no means desperate. His men had not been
surrounded; they had lost scarcely any prisoners; they felt no fear of the French. But
the general exaggerated the seriousness of his defeat. Like most of his officers, he was
weary of the war, and felt no sympathy with the motives which led the Emperor to fight
for the common cause of Europe. The politicians who surrounded Alexander urged him
to withdraw Russia from a conflict in which she had nothing to gain. The Emperor
wavered. The tardiness of Great Britain, the continued neutrality of Austria, cast a
doubt upon the wisdom of his own disinterestedness; and he determined to meet
Napoleon, and ascertain the terms on which Russia might be reconciled to the master of
half the Continent.
On the 25th of June the two sovereigns met one another on the raft of Tilsit, in the
midstream of the river Niemen. The conversation, which is alleged to have been
opened by Alexander with an expression of hatred towards England, was heard by no
one but the speakers. But whatever the eagerness or the reluctance of the Russian
monarch to sever himself from Great Britain, the purpose of Napoleon was effected.
Alexander surrendered himself to the addresses of a conqueror who seemed to ask for
nothing and to offer everything. The negotiations were prolonged; the relations of the
two monarchs became more and more intimate; and the issue of the struggle for life or
death was that Russia accepted the whole scheme of Napoleonic conquest, and took its
place by the side of the despoiler in return for its share of the prey. It was in vain that
the King of Prussia had rejected Napoleon's offers after the battle of Eylau, in fidelity
to his engagements towards his ally. Promises, treaties, and pity were alike cast to the
Such were the stipulations contained in the formal Treaties of Peace between the three
Powers. These, however, contained but a small part of the terms agreed upon between
the masters of the east and of the west. A secret Treaty of Alliance, distinct from the
Treaty of Peace, was also signed by Napoleon and Alexander. In the conversations
which won over the Czar to the cause of France, Napoleon had offered to Alexander
the spoils of Sweden and the Ottoman Empire. Finland and the Danubian provinces
were not too high a price for the support of a Power whose arms could paralyse Austria
and Prussia. In return for the promise of this extension of his Empire, Alexander
undertook, in the event of Great Britain refusing terms of peace dictated by himself, to
unite his arms to those of Napoleon, and to force the neutral maritime Powers,
Denmark and Portugal, to take part in the struggle against England. The annexation of
Moldavia and Wallachia to the Russian Empire was provided for under the form of a
French mediation. In the event of the Porte declining this mediation, Napoleon
undertook to assist Russia to liberate all the European territory subject to the yoke of
the Sultan, with the exception of Roumelia and Constantinople. A partition of the
liberated territory between France and Russia, as well as the establishment of the
Napoleonic house in Spain, probably formed the subject rather of a verbal
understanding than of any written agreement. [140]
Such was this vast and threatening scheme, conceived by the man whose whole career
had been one consistent struggle for personal domination, accepted by the man who
among the rulers of the Continent had hitherto shown the greatest power of acting for a
European end, and of interesting himself in a cause not directly his own. In the
imagination of Napoleon, the national forces of the western continent had now ceased
to exist. Austria excepted, there was no State upon the mainland whose army and navy
were not prospectively in the hands of himself and his new ally. The commerce of
Great Britain, already excluded from the greater part of Europe, was now to be shut out
from all the rest; the armies which had hitherto fought under British subsidies for the
independence of Europe, the navies which had preserved their existence by neutrality
Two days before the signature of the Treaty of Tilsit the British troops which had once
been so anxiously expected by the Czar landed in the island of Rügen. The struggle in
which they were intended to take their part was over. Sweden alone remained in arms;
and even the Quixotic pugnacity of King Gustavus was unable to save Stralsund from a
speedy capitulation. But the troops of Great Britain were not destined to return without
striking a blow. The negotiations between Napoleon and Alexander had scarcely
begun, when secret intelligence of their purport was sent to the British Government.
[141] It became known in London that the fleet of Denmark was to be seized by
Napoleon, and forced to fight against Great Britain. Canning and his colleagues acted
with the promptitude that seldom failed the British Government when it could effect its
object by the fleet alone. They determined to anticipate Napoleon's violation of Danish
neutrality, and to seize upon the navy which would otherwise be seized by France and
Russia.
On the 28th of July a fleet with 20,000 men on board set sail from the British coast.
The troops landed in Denmark in the middle of August, and united with the corps
which had already been despatched to Rügen. The Danish Government was summoned
to place its navy in the hands of Great Britain, in order that it might remain as a deposit
in some British port until the conclusion of peace. While demanding this sacrifice of
Danish neutrality, England undertook to protect the Danish nation and colonies from
the hostility of Napoleon, and to place at the disposal of its Government every means
of naval and military defence. Failing the surrender of the fleet, the English declared
that they would bombard Copenhagen. The reply given to this summons was such as
might be expected from a courageous nation exasperated against Great Britain by its
harsh treatment of neutral ships of commerce, and inclined to submit to the despot of
the Continent rather than to the tyrants of the seas. Negotiations proved fruitless, and
on the 2nd of September the English opened fire on Copenhagen. For three days and
nights the city underwent a bombardment of cruel efficiency. Eighteen hundred houses
were levelled, the town was set on fire in several places, and a large number of the
inhabitants lost their lives. At length the commander found himself compelled to
capitulate. The fleet was handed over to Great Britain, with all the stores in the arsenal
of Copenhagen. It was brought to England, no longer under the terms of a friendly
neutrality, but as a prize of war.
The fleet which Napoleon had meant to turn against this country now lay safe within
Portsmouth harbour. Denmark, in bitter resentment, declared war against Great Britain,
and rendered some service to the Continental League by the attacks of its privateers
upon British merchant-vessels in the Baltic. The second neutral Power whose fate had
been decided by the two Emperors at Tilsit received the summons of Napoleon a few
days before the attack on Copenhagen. The Regent of Portugal himself informed the
British Government that he had been required by Napoleon to close his ports to British
vessels, to declare war on England, and to confiscate all British property within his
dominions. Placed between a Power which could strip him of his dominions on land,
and one which could despoil him of everything he possessed beyond the sea, the
Regent determined to maintain his ancient friendship with Great Britain, and to submit
to Napoleon only in so far as the English Government would excuse him, as acting
under coercion. Although a nominal state of war arose between Portugal and England,
the Regent really acted in the interest of England, and followed the advice of the
British Cabinet up to the end.
The end was soon to come. The demands of Napoleon, arbitrary and oppressive as they
were, by no means expressed his full intentions towards Portugal. He had determined to
seize upon this country, and to employ it as a means for extending his own dominion
over the whole of the Spanish Peninsula. An army-corps, under the command of Junot,
had been already placed in the Pyrenees. On the 12th of October Napoleon received the
answer of the Regent of Portugal, consenting to declare war upon England, and only
rejecting the dishonourable order to confiscate all English property. This single act of
resistance was sufficient for Napoleon's purpose. He immediately recalled his
ambassador from Lisbon, and gave orders to Junot to cross the frontier, and march
upon Portugal. The King of Spain, who was to be Napoleon's next victim, was for the
moment employed as his accomplice. A treaty was concluded at Fontainebleau
between Napoleon and King Charles IV. for the partition of Portugal (Oct. 27). [143] In
return for the cession of the kingdom of Etruria, which was still nominally governed by
a member of the Spanish house, the King of Spain was promised half the Portuguese
colonies, along with the title of Emperor of the Indies; the northern provinces of
Portugal were reserved for the infant King of Etruria, its southern provinces for Godoy,
Minister of Charles IV.; the central districts were to remain in the hands of France, and
to be employed as a means of regaining the Spanish colonies from England upon the
conclusion of a general peace.
Not one of these provisions was intended to be carried into effect. The conquest of
Portugal was but a part of the conquest of the whole peninsula. But neither the Spanish
Court nor the Spanish people suspected Napoleon's design. Junot advanced without
resistance through the intervening Spanish territory, and pushed forward upon Lisbon
with the utmost haste. The speed at which Napoleon's orders forced him to march
reduced his army to utter prostration, and the least resistance would have resulted in its
ruin. But the Court of Lisbon had determined to quit a country which they could not
hope to defend against the master of the Continent. Already in the seventeenth and
eighteenth centuries the House of Braganza had been familiar with the project of
transferring the seat of their Government to Brazil; and now, with the approval of Great
Britain, the Regent resolved to maintain the independence of his family by flight across
the Atlantic. As Junot's troops approached the capital, the servants of the palace hastily
stowed the royal property on ship-board. On the 29th of November, when the French
were now close at hand, the squadron which bore the House of Braganza to its colonial
home dropped down the Tagus, saluted by the cannon of the English fleet that lay in
the same river. Junot entered the capital a few hours later, and placed himself at the
head of the Government without encountering any opposition. The occupation of
Portugal was described by Napoleon as a reprisal for the bombardment of Copenhagen.
It excited but little attention in Europe; and even at the Spanish Court the only feeling
was one of satisfaction at the approaching aggrandisement of the Bourbon monarchy.
The full significance of Napoleon's intervention in the affairs of the Peninsula was not
discovered until some months were passed.
Portugal and Denmark had felt the consequences of the peace made at Tilsit. Less,
however, depended upon the fate of the Danish fleet and the Portuguese Royal Family
than upon the fate of Prussia, the most cruelly wronged of all the victims sacrificed by
Alexander's ambition. The unfortunate Prussian State, reduced to half its former extent,
devastated and impoverished by war, and burdened with the support of a French army,
found in the crisis of its ruin the beginning of a worthier national life. Napoleon, in his
own vindictive jealousy, unwittingly brought to the head of the Prussian Government
the ablest and most patriotic statesman of the Continent. Since the spring of 1807
Baron Hardenberg had again been the leading Minister of Prussia, and it was to his
counsel that the King's honourable rejection of a separate peace after the battle of Eylau
was due. Napoleon could not permit this Minister, whom he had already branded as a
partisan of Great Britain, to remain in power; he insisted upon Hardenberg's dismissal,
and recommended the King of Prussia to summon Stein, who was as yet known to
Napoleon only as a skilful financier, likely to succeed in raising the money which the
French intended to extort.
Stein entered upon office on the 5th of October, 1807, with almost dictatorial power.
The need of the most radical changes in the public services, as well as in the social
order of the Prussian State, had been brought home to all enlightened men by the
disasters of the war; and a commission, which included among its members the
historian Niebuhr, had already sketched large measures of reform before Hardenberg
quitted office. Stein's appointment brought to the head of the State a man immeasurably
superior to Hardenberg in the energy necessary for the execution of great changes, and
gave to those who were the most sincerely engaged in civil or military reform a leader
unrivalled in patriotic zeal, in boldness, and in purity of character. The first great
legislative measure of Stein was the abolition of serfage, and of all the legal
distinctions which fixed within the limits of their caste the noble, the citizen, and the
peasant. In setting his name to the edict [144] which, on the 9th of October, 1807, made
an end of the mediæval framework of Prussian society, Stein was indeed but
consummating a change which the progress of neighbouring States must have forced
upon Prussia, whoever held its government. The Decree was framed upon the report of
Hardenberg's Commission, and was published by Stein within six days after his own
entry upon office. Great as were the changes involved in this edict of emancipation, it
contained no more than was necessary to bring Prussia up to the level of the least
advanced of the western Continental States. In Austria pure serfage had been abolished
by Maria Theresa thirty years before; it vanished, along with most of the legal
distinctions of class, wherever the victories of France carried a new political order;
even the misused peasantry of Poland had been freed from their degrading yoke within
the borders of the newly-founded Duchy of Warsaw. If Prussia was not to renounce its
partnership in European progress and range itself with its barbarous eastern neighbour,
that order which fettered the peasant to the soil, and limited every Prussian to the
hereditary occupations of his class could no longer be maintained. It is not as an
achievement of individual genius, but as the most vivid expression of the differences
between the old and the new Europe, that the first measure of Stein deserves a closer
examination.
[The Prussian peasant before and after the Edict of Oct. 9.]
The history of Agrarian Reform upon the Continent shows how vast was the interval of
time by which some of the greatest social changes in England had anticipated the
corresponding changes in almost all other nations. But if the Prussian peasant at the
beginning of this century remained in the servile condition which had passed out of
mind in Great Britain before the Reformation, the early prosperity of the peasant in
England was dearly purchased by a subsequent decline which has made his present lot
far inferior to that of the children or grandchildren of the Prussian serf. However heavy
the load of the Prussian serf, his holding was at least protected by law from absorption
into the domain of his lord. Before sufficient capital had been amassed in Prussia to
render landed property an object of competition, the forced military service of
Frederick had made it a rule of State that the farmsteads of the peasant class must
remain undiminished in number, at whatever violence to the laws of the market or the
desires of great landlords. No process was permitted to take place corresponding to that
by which in England, after the villein had become the free copyholder, the lord, with or
without technical legal right, terminated the copyhold tenure of his retainer, and made
the land as much his own exclusive property as the chairs and tables in his house. In
[Short service.]
Besides the commission which had drafted the Edict of Emancipation, Stein found a
military commission engaged on a plan for the reorganisation of the Prussian army.
The existing system forced the peasant to serve in the ranks for twenty years, and drew
the officers from the nobility, leaving the inhabitants of towns without either the duty
or the right to enter the army at all. Since the battle of Jena, no one doubted that the
principle of universal liability to military service must be introduced into Prussia; on
the other hand, the very disasters of the State rendered it impossible to maintain an
army on anything approaching to its former scale. With half its territory torn from it,
and the remainder devastated by war, Prussia could barely afford to keep 40,000
soldiers in arms. Such were the conditions laid before the men who were charged with
the construction of a new Prussian military system. Their conclusions, imperfect in
themselves, and but partially carried out in the succeeding years, have nevertheless
been the basis of the latest military organisation of Prussia and of Europe generally.
The problem was solved by the adoption of a short period of service and the rapid
drafting of the trained conscript into a reserve-force. Scharnhorst, President of the
Military Commission, to whom more than to any one man Prussia owed its military
revival, proposed to maintain an Active Army of 40,000 men; a Reserve, into which
soldiers should pass after short service in the active army; a Landwehr, to be employed
only for the internal defence of the country; and a Landsturm, or general arming of the
population, for a species of guerilla warfare. Scharnhorst's project was warmly
supported by Stein, who held a seat and a vote on the Military Commission; and the
system of short service, with a Reserve, was immediately brought into action, though
on a very limited scale. The remainder of the scheme had to wait for the assistance of
events. The principle of universal military obligation was first proclaimed in the war of
1813, when also the Landwehr was first enrolled.
Stein was indeed unable to transform Prussia as he desired. Of the legislative, the
municipal, and the district reforms which he had sketched, the municipal reform was
the only one which he had time to carry out before being driven from power; and for
forty years the municipal institutions created by Stein were the only fragment of liberty
which Prussia enjoyed. A vehement opposition to reform was excited among the
landowners, and supported by a powerful party at the Court. Stein was detested by the
nobles whose peasants he had emancipated, and by the Berlin aristocracy, which for the
last ten years had maintained the policy of friendship with France, and now declared
the only safety of the Prussian State to lie in unconditional submission to Napoleon.
The fire of patriotism, of energy, of self-sacrifice, which burned in Stein made him no
representative of the Prussian governing classes of his time. It was not long before the
landowners, who deemed him a Jacobin, and the friends of the French, who called him
a madman, had the satisfaction of seeing the Minister sent into banishment by order of
Napoleon himself (Dec., 1808). Stein left the greater part of his work uncompleted, but
he had not laboured in vain. The years of his ministry in 1807 and 1808 were the years
that gathered together everything that was worthiest in Prussia in the dawn of a national
revival, and prepared the way for that great movement in which, after an interval of the
deepest gloom, Stein was himself to light the nation to its victory.
CHAPTER VIII.
Spain in 1806-Napoleon uses the quarrel between Ferdinand and Godoy-He affects to
be Ferdinand's protector-Dupont's army enters Spain-Murat in Spain-Charles
abdicates-Ferdinand King-Savary brings Ferdinand to Bayonne-Napoleon makes both
Charles and Ferdinand resign-Spirit of the Spanish Nation-Contrast with
Germany-Rising of all Spain-The Notables at Bayonne-Campaign of 1808-Capitulation
of Baylen-Wellesley lands in Portugal-Vimieiro-Convention of Cintra-Effect of the
Spanish Rising on Europe-War Party in Prussia-Napoleon and Alexander at
Erfurt-Stein resigns, and is proscribed-Napoleon in Spain-Spanish Misgovernment-
Campaign on the Ebro-Campaign of Sir John Moore-Corunna-Napoleon leaves
Spain-Siege of Saragossa-Successes of the French.
[Spain in 1806.]
Spain, which had played so insignificant a part throughout the Revolutionary War, was
now about to become the theatre of events that opened a new world of hope to Europe.
Its King, the Bourbon Charles IV., was more weak and more pitiful than any sovereign
of the age. Power belonged to the Queen and to her paramour Godoy, who for the last
fourteen years had so conducted the affairs of the country that every change in its
policy had brought with it new disaster. In the war of the First Coalition Spain had
joined the Allies, and French armies had crossed the Pyrenees. In 1796 Spain entered
the service of France, and lost the battle of St. Vincent. At the Peace of Amiens,
Napoleon surrendered its colony Trinidad to England; on the renewal of the war he
again forced it into hostilities with Great Britain, and brought upon it the disaster of
Trafalgar. This unbroken humiliation of the Spanish arms, combined with intolerable
oppression and impoverishment at home, raised so bitter an outcry against Godoy's
government, that foreign observers, who underrated the loyalty of the Spanish people,
believed the country to be on the verge of revolution. At the Court itself the Crown
Prince Ferdinand, under the influence of his Neapolitan wife, headed a party in
opposition to Godoy and the supporters of French dominion. Godoy, insecure at home,
The opening of negotiations between Napoleon and Fox's Ministry in May, 1806, first
shook this relation of confidence and obedience. Peace between France and England
involved the abandonment on the part of Napoleon of any attack upon Portugal; and
Napoleon now began to meet Godoy's inquiries after his Portuguese principality with
an ominous silence. The next intelligence received was that the Spanish Balearic
Islands had been offered by Napoleon to Great Britain, with the view of providing an
indemnity for Ferdinand of Naples, if he should give up Sicily to Joseph Bonaparte
(July, 1806.) This contemptuous appropriation of Spanish territory, without even the
pretence of consulting the Spanish Government, excited scarcely less anger at Madrid
than the corresponding proposal with regard to Hanover excited at Berlin. The Court
began to meditate a change of policy, and watched the events which were leading
Prussia to arm for the war of 1806. A few weeks more passed, and news arrived that
Buenos Ayres, the capital of Spanish South America, had fallen into the hands of the
English. This disaster produced the deepest impression, for the loss of Buenos Ayres
was believed, and with good reason, to be but the prelude to the loss of the entire
American empire of Spain. Continuance of the war with England was certain ruin;
alliance with the enemies of Napoleon was at least not hopeless, now that Prussia was
on the point of throwing its army into the scale against France. An agent was
despatched by the Spanish Government to London (Sept., 1806); and, upon the
commencement of hostilities by Prussia, a proclamation was issued by Godoy, which,
without naming any actual enemy, summoned the Spanish people to prepare for a war
on behalf of their country.
Scarcely had the manifesto been read by the Spaniards when the Prussian army was
annihilated at Jena. The dream of resistance to Napoleon vanished away; the only
anxiety of the Spanish Government was to escape from the consequences of its
untimely daring. Godoy hastened to explain that his martial proclamation had been
directed not against the Emperor of the French, but against the Emperor of Morocco.
Napoleon professed himself satisfied with this palpable absurdity: it appeared as if the
events of the last few months had left no trace on his mind. Immediately after the Peace
of Tilsit he resumed his negotiations with Godoy upon the old friendly footing, and
brought them to a conclusion in the Treaty of Fontainebleau (Oct., 1807), which
provided for the invasion of Portugal by a French and a Spanish army, and for its
division into principalities, one of which was to be conferred upon Godoy himself. The
occupation of Portugal was duly effected, and Godoy looked forward to the speedy
retirement of the French from the province which was to be his portion of the spoil.
Dupont's troops entered Spain in the last days of the year 1807, and were received with
acclamations. It was universally believed that Napoleon had espoused the cause of
Ferdinand, and intended to deliver the Spanish nation from the detested rule of Godoy.
Since the open attack made upon Ferdinand in the publication of the pretended
conspiracy, the Crown Prince, who was personally as contemptible as any of his
enemies, had become the idol of the people. For years past the hatred of the nation
towards Godoy and the Queen had been constantly deepening, and the very reforms
which Godoy effected in the hope of attaching to himself the more enlightened classes
only served to complete his unpopularity with the fanatical mass of the nation. The
French, who gradually entered the Peninsula to the number of 80,000, and who
described themselves as the protectors of Ferdinand and of the true Catholic faith, were
able to spread themselves over the northern provinces without exciting suspicion. It
was only when their commanders, by a series of tricks worthy of American savages,
obtained possession of the frontier citadels and fortresses, that the wiser part of the
nation began to entertain some doubt as to the real purpose of their ally. At the Court
itself and among the enemies of Ferdinand the advance of the French roused the utmost
alarm. King Charles wrote to Napoleon in the tone of ancient friendship; but the answer
he received was threatening and mysterious. The utterances which the Emperor let fall
in the presence of persons likely to report them at Madrid were even more alarming,
and were intended to terrify the Court into the resolution to take flight from Madrid.
The capital once abandoned by the King, Napoleon judged that he might safely take
everything into his own hands on the pretence of restoring to Spain the government
which it had lost.
On the 20th of February, 1808, Murat was ordered to quit Paris in order to assume the
command in Spain. Not a word was said by Napoleon to him before his departure. His
instructions first reached him at Bayonne; they were of a military nature, and gave no
indication of the ultimate political object of his mission. Murat entered Spain on the 1st
of March, knowing no more than that he was ordered to reassure all parties and to
commit himself to none, but with full confidence that he himself was intended by
Napoleon to be the successor of the Bourbon dynasty. It was now that the Spanish
Court, expecting the appearance of the French army in Madrid, resolved upon that
flight which Napoleon considered so necessary to his own success. The project was not
kept a secret. It passed from Godoy to the Ministers of State, and from them to the
friends of Ferdinand. The populace of Madrid was inflamed by the report that Godoy
was about to carry the King to a distance, in order to prolong the misgovernment which
the French had determined to overthrow. A tumultuous crowd marched from the capital
to Aranjuez, the residence of the Court. On the evening of the 17th of March, the
palace of Godoy was stormed by the mob. Godoy himself was seized, and carried to the
barracks amid the blows and curses of the populace. The terrified King, who already
saw before him the fate of his cousin, Louis XVI., first published a decree depriving
Godoy of all his dignities, and then abdicated in favour of his son. On the 19th of
March Ferdinand was proclaimed King.
Such was the unexpected intelligence that met Murat as he approached Madrid. The
dissensions of the Court, which were to supply his ground of intervention, had been
terminated by the Spaniards themselves: in the place of a despised dotard and a
menaced favourite, Spain had gained a youthful sovereign around whom all classes of
the nation rallied with the utmost enthusiasm. Murat's position became a very difficult
one; but he supplied what was wanting in his instructions by the craft of a man bent
upon creating a vacancy in his own favour. He sent his aide-de-camp, Monthieu, to
visit the dethroned sovereign, and obtained a protest from King Charles IV., declaring
his abdication to have been extorted from him by force, and consequently to be null
and void. This document Murat kept secret; but he carefully abstained from doing
anything which might involve a recognition of Ferdinand's title. On the 23rd of March
the French troops entered Madrid. Nothing had as yet become known to the public that
indicated an altered policy on the part of the French; and the soldiers of Murat, as the
supposed friends of Ferdinand, met with as friendly a reception in Madrid as in the
other towns of Spain. On the following day Ferdinand himself made his solemn entry
In the tumult of popular joy it was noticed that Murat's troops continued their exercises
without the least regard to the pageant that so deeply stirred the hearts of the Spaniards.
Suspicions were aroused; the enthusiasm of the people for the French soldiers began to
change into irritation and ill-will. The end of the long drama of deceit was in fact now
close at hand. On the 4th of April General Savary arrived at Madrid with instructions
independent of those given to Murat. He was charged to entice the new Spanish
sovereign from his capital, and to bring him, either as a dupe or as a prisoner, on to
French soil. The task was not a difficult one. Savary pretended that Napoleon had
actually entered Spain, and that he only required an assurance of Ferdinand's continued
friendship before recognising him as the legitimate successor of Charles IV. Ferdinand,
he added, could show no greater mark of cordiality to his patron than by advancing to
meet him on the road. Snared by these hopes, Ferdinand set out from Madrid, in
company with Savary and some of his own foolish confidants. On reaching Burgos, the
party found no signs of the Emperor. They continued their journey to Vittoria. Here
Ferdinand's suspicions were aroused, and he declined to proceed farther. Savary
hastened to Bayonne to report the delay to Napoleon. He returned with a letter which
overcame Ferdinand's scruples and induced him to cross the Pyrenees, in spite of the
prayers of statesmen and the loyal violence of the simple inhabitants of the district. At
Bayonne Ferdinand was visited by Napoleon, but not a word was spoken on the object
of his journey. In the afternoon the Emperor received Ferdinand and his suite at a
neighbouring château, but preserved the same ominous silence. When the other guests
departed, the Canon Escoiquiz, a member of Ferdinand's retinue, was detained, and
learned from Napoleon's own lips the fate in store for the Bourbon Monarchy. Savary
returned to Bayonne with Ferdinand, and informed the Prince that he must renounce
the crown of Spain. [146]
For some days Ferdinand held out against Napoleon's demands with a stubbornness not
often shown by him in the course of his mean and hypocritical career. He was assailed
not only by Napoleon but by those whose fall had been his own rise; for Godoy was
sent to Bayonne by Murat, and the old King and Queen hurried after their son in order
to witness his humiliation. Ferdinand's parents attacked him with an indecency that
astonished even Napoleon himself; but the Prince maintained his refusal until news
arrived from Madrid which terrified him into submission. The irritation of the capital
had culminated in an armed conflict between the populace and the French troops. On
an attempt being made by Murat to remove the remaining members of the royal family
from the palace, the capital had broken into open insurrection, and wherever French
soldiers were found alone or in small bodies they were massacred. (May 2.) Some
hundreds of the French perished; but the victory of Murat was speedy, and his
vengeance ruthless. The insurgents were driven into the great central square of the city,
and cut down by repeated charges of cavalry. When all resistance was over, numbers of
the citizens were shot in cold blood. Such was the intelligence which reached Bayonne
in the midst of Napoleon's struggle with Ferdinand. There was no further need of
argument. Ferdinand was informed that if he withheld his resignation for twenty-four
The crown had indeed been won without a battle. That there remained a Spanish nation
ready to fight to the death for its independence was not a circumstance which Napoleon
had taken into account. His experience had as yet taught him of no force but that of
Governments and armies. In the larger States, or groups of States, which had hitherto
been the spoil of France, the sense of nationality scarcely existed. Italy had felt it no
disgrace to pass under the rule of Napoleon. The Germans on both sides of the Rhine
knew of a fatherland only as an arena of the keenest jealousies. In Prussia and in
Austria the bond of citizenship was far less the love of country than the habit of
obedience to government. England and Russia, where patriotism existed in the sense in
which it existed in Spain, had as yet been untouched by French armies. Judging from
the action of the Germans and the Italians, Napoleon might well suppose that in settling
with the Spanish Government he had also settled with the Spanish people, or, at the
worst, that his troops might have to fight some fanatical peasants, like those who
resisted the expulsion of the Bourbons from Naples. But the Spanish nation was no
mosaic of political curiosities like the Holy Roman Empire, and no divided and
oblivious family like the population of Italy. Spain, as a single nation united under its
King, had once played the foremost part in Europe: when its grandeur departed, its
pride had remained behind: the Spaniard, in all his torpor and impoverishment, retained
the impulse of honour, the spirited self-respect, which periods of national greatness
leave behind them among a race capable of cherishing their memory. Nor had those
influences of a common European culture, which directly opposed themselves to
patriotism in Germany, affected the home-bred energy of Spain. The temper of mind
which could find satisfaction in the revival of a form of Greek art when Napoleon's
cavalry were scouring Germany, or which could inquire whether mankind would not
profit by the removal of the barriers between nations, was unknown among the Spanish
people. Their feeling towards a foreign invader was less distant from that of African
savages than from that of the civilised and literary nations which had fallen so easy a
prey to the French. Government, if it had degenerated into everything that was
contemptible, had at least failed to reduce the people to the passive helplessness which
resulted from the perfection of uniformity in Prussia. Provincial institutions, though
corrupted, were not extinguished; provincial attachments and prejudices existed in
unbounded strength. Like the passion of the Spaniard for his native district, his passion
for Spain was of a blind and furious character. Enlightened conviction, though not
altogether absent, had small place in the Spanish war of defence. Religious fanaticism,
hatred of the foreigner, delight in physical barbarity, played their full part by the side of
nobler elements in the struggle for national independence.
The captivity of Ferdinand, and the conflict of Murat's troops with the inhabitants of
Madrid, had become known in the Spanish cities before the middle of May. On the
20th of the same month the Gaceta announced the abdication of the Bourbon family.
Nothing more was wanting to throw Spain into tumult. The same irresistible impulse
seized provinces and cities separated by the whole breadth of the Peninsula. Without
communication, and without the guidance of any central authority, the Spanish people
Napoleon was in the meantime collecting a body of prelates and grandees at Bayonne,
under the pretence of consulting the representatives of the Spanish nation. Half the
members of the intended Assembly received a personal summons from the Emperor;
the other half were ordered to be chosen by popular election. When the order, however,
was issued from Bayonne, the country was already in full revolt. Elections were held
only in the districts occupied by the French, and not more than twenty representatives
so elected proceeded to Bayonne. The remainder of the Assembly, which numbered in
all ninety-one persons, was composed of courtiers who had accompanied the Royal
Family across the Pyrenees, and of any Spaniards of distinction upon whom the French
could lay their hands. Joseph Bonaparte was brought from Naples to receive the crown
of Spain. [147] On the 15th of June the Assembly of the Notables was opened. Its
discussions followed the order prescribed by Napoleon on all similar occasions.
Articles disguising a central absolute power with some pretence of national
representation were laid before the Assembly, and adopted without criticism. Except in
the privileges accorded to the Church, little indicated that the Constitution of Bayonne
was intended for the Spanish rather than for any other nation. Its political forms were
as valuable or as valueless as those which Napoleon had given to his other client States;
its principles of social order were those which even now despotism could not dissever
from French supremacy-the abolition of feudal services, equality of taxation, admission
of all ranks to public employment. Titles of nobility were preserved, the privileges of
nobility abolished. One genuine act of homage was rendered to the national character.
The Catholic religion was declared to be the only one permitted in Spain.
While Napoleon was thus emancipating the peasants from the nobles, and reconciling
his supremacy with the claims of the Church, peasants and townspeople were flocking
to arms at the call of the priests, who so little appreciated the orthodoxy of their patron
as to identify him in their manifestos with Calvin, with the Antichrist, and with
Apollyon. [148] The Emperor underrated the military efficiency of the national revolt,
and contented himself with sending his lieutenants to repress it, while he himself,
expecting a speedy report of victory, remained in Bayonne. Divisions of the French
[Dupont in Andalusia.]
Never had Napoleon so gravely mistaken the true character of a campaign. The vitality
of the Spanish insurrection lay not in the support of the capital, which had never passed
out of the hands of the French, but in the very independence of the several provincial
movements. Unlike Vienna and Berlin, Madrid might be held by the French without the
loss being felt by their adversary; Cadiz, Corunna, Lisbon, were equally serviceable
bases for the insurrection. The victory of Marshal Bessières in the north preserved the
communication between France and Madrid, and it did nothing more. It failed to
restore the balance of military force in the south of Spain, or to affect the operations of
the Spanish troops which were now closing round Dupont upon the Guadalquivir. On
the 15th of July Dupont was attacked at Andujar by greatly superior forces. His
lieutenant, Vedel, knowing the Spaniards to be engaged in a turning movement, made a
long march northwards in order to guard the line of retreat. In his absence the position
of Baylen, immediately in Dupont's rear, was seized by the Spanish general Reding.
Dupont discovered himself to be surrounded. He divided his army into two columns,
and moved on the night of the 18th from Andujar towards Baylen, in the hope of
overpowering Reding's division. At daybreak on the 19th the positions of Reding were
attacked by the French. The struggle continued until mid-day, though the French
soldiers sank exhausted with thirst and with the burning heat. At length the sound of
cannon was heard in the rear. Castanos, the Spanish general commanding at Andujar,
had discovered Dupont's retreat, and pressed behind him with troops fresh and
unwearied by conflict. Further resistance was hopeless. Dupont had to negotiate for a
surrender. He consented to deliver up Vedel's division as well as his own, although
Vedel's troops were in possession of the road to Madrid, the Spanish commander
promising, on this condition, that the captives should not be retained as prisoners of
war in Spain, but be permitted to return by sea to their native country. The entire army
of Andalusia, numbering 23,000 men, thus passed into the hands of an enemy whom
Napoleon had not believed to possess a military existence. Dupont's anxiety to save
something for France only aggravated the extent of the calamity; for the Junta of
Seville declined to ratify the terms of the capitulation, and the prisoners, with the
exception of the superior officers, were sent to the galleys at Cadiz. The victorious
Spaniards pushed forwards upon Madrid. King Joseph, who had entered the city only a
week before, had to fly from his capital. The whole of the French troops in Spain were
compelled to retire to a defensive position upon the Ebro.
The disaster of Baylen did not come alone. Napoleon's attack upon Portugal had
brought him within the striking-range of Great Britain. On the 1st of August an English
army, commanded by Sir Arthur Wellesley, landed on the Portuguese coast at the
mouth of the Mondego. Junot, the first invader of the Peninsula, was still at Lisbon; his
forces in occupation of Portugal numbered nearly 30,000 men, but they were widely
dispersed, and he was unable to bring more than 13,000 men into the field against the
16,000 with whom Wellesley moved upon Lisbon. Junot advanced to meet the invader.
A battle was fought at Vimieiro, thirty miles north of Lisbon, on the 21st of August.
The victory was gained by the British; and had the first advantage been followed up,
Junot's army would scarcely have escaped capture. But the command had passed out of
Wellesley's hands. His superior officer, Sir Harry Burrard, took up the direction of the
army immediately the battle ended, and Wellesley had to acquiesce in a suspension of
operations at a moment when the enemy seemed to be within his grasp. Junot made the
best use of his reprieve. He entered into negotiations for the evacuation of Portugal,
and obtained the most favourable terms in the Convention of Cintra, signed on the 30th
of August. The French army was permitted to return to France with its arms and
baggage. Wellesley, who had strongly condemned the inaction of his superior officers
after the battle of the 21st, agreed with them that, after the enemy had once been
permitted to escape, the evacuation of Portugal was the best result which the English
could obtain. [149] Junot's troops were accordingly conveyed to French ports at the
expense of the British Government, to the great displeasure of the public, who expected
to see the marshal and his army brought prisoners into Portsmouth. The English were
as ill-humoured with their victory as the French with their defeat. When on the point of
sending Junot to a court-martial for his capitulation, Napoleon learnt that the British
Government had ordered its own generals to be brought to trial for permitting the
enemy to escape them.
If the Convention of Cintra gained little glory for England, the tidings of the successful
uprising of the Spanish people against Napoleon, and of Dupont's capitulation at
Baylen, created the deepest impression in every country of Europe that still entertained
the thought of resistance to France. The first great disaster had befallen Napoleon's
arms. It had been inflicted by a nation without a government, without a policy, without
a plan beyond that of the liberation of its fatherland from the foreigner. What Coalition
after Coalition had failed to effect, the patriotism and energy of a single people
deserted by its rulers seemed about to accomplish. The victory of the regular troops at
Baylen was but a part of that great national movement in which every isolated outbreak
Since the nominal restoration of peace between France and Prussia by the cession of
half the Prussian kingdom, not a month had passed without the infliction of some gross
injustice upon the conquered nation. The evacuation of the country had in the first
instance been made conditional upon the payment of certain requisitions in arrear.
While the amount of this sum was being settled, all Prussia, except Königsberg,
remained in the hands of the French, and 157,000 French soldiers lived at free quarters
upon the unfortunate inhabitants. At the end of the year 1807 King Frederick William
was informed that, besides paying to Napoleon 60,000,000 francs in money, and ceding
domain lands of the same value, he must continue to support 40,000 French troops in
five garrison-towns upon the Oder. Such was the dismay caused by this announcement,
that Stein quitted Königsberg, now the seat of government, and passed three months at
the head-quarters of the French at Berlin, endeavouring to frame some settlement less
disastrous to his country. Count Daru, Napoleon's administrator in Prussia, treated the
Minister with respect, and accepted his proposal for the evacuation of Prussian territory
on payment of a fixed sum to the French. But the agreement required Napoleon's
ratification, and for this Stein waited in vain. [150]
Month after month dragged on, and Napoleon made no reply. At length the victories of
the Spanish insurrection in the summer of 1808 forced the Emperor to draw in his
troops from beyond the Elbe. He placed a bold front upon his necessities, and
demanded from the Prussian Government, as the price of evacuation, a still larger sum
than that which had been named in the previous winter: he insisted that the Prussian
army should be limited to 40,000 men, and the formation of the Landwehr abandoned;
and he required the support of a Prussian corps of 16,000 men, in the event of
hostilities breaking out between France and Austria. Not even on these conditions was
Prussia offered the complete evacuation of her territory. Napoleon still insisted on
holding the three principal fortresses on the Oder with a garrison of 10,000 men. Such
In one point alone Stein was completely misinformed. He believed that Alexander, in
spite of the Treaty of Tilsit, would not be unwilling to see the storm burst upon
Napoleon, and that in the event of another general war the forces of Russia would more
probably be employed against France than in its favour. The illusion was a fatal one.
Alexander was still the accomplice of Napoleon. For the sake of the Danubian
Principalities, Alexander was willing to hold central Europe in check while Napoleon
crushed the Spaniards, and to stifle every bolder impulse in the simple King of Prussia.
Napoleon himself dreaded the general explosion of Europe before Spain was
conquered, and drew closer to his Russian ally. Difficulties that had been placed in the
way of the Russian annexation of Roumania vanished. The Czar and the Emperor
determined to display to all Europe the intimacy of their union by a festal meeting at
Erfurt in the midst of their victims and their dependents. The whole tribe of vassal
German sovereigns was summoned to the meeting-place; representatives attended from
the Courts of Vienna and Berlin. On the 7th of October Napoleon and Alexander made
their entry into Erfurt. Pageants and festivities required the attendance of the crowned
and titled rabble for several days; but the only serious business was the settlement of a
treaty confirming the alliance of France and Russia, and the notification of the Czar to
the envoy of the King of Prussia that his master must accept the terms demanded by
Napoleon, and relinquish the idea of a struggle with France. [151] Count Goltz, the
Prussian envoy, unwillingly signed the treaty which gave Prussia but a partial
evacuation at so dear a cost, and wrote to the King that no course now remained for
him but to abandon himself to unreserved dependence upon France, and to permit Stein
and the patriotic party to retire from the direction of the State. Unless the King could
summon up courage to declare war in defiance of Alexander, there was, in fact, no
alternative left open to him. Napoleon had discovered Stein's plans for raising an
insurrection in Germany several weeks before, and had given vent to the most furious
outburst of wrath against Stein in the presence of the Prussian Ambassador at Erfurt. If
the great struggle on which Stein's whole heart and soul were set was to be
relinquished, if Spain was to be crushed before Prussia moved an arm, and Austria was
to be left to fight its inevitable battle alone, then the presence of Stein at the head of the
Prussian State was only a snare to Europe, a peril to Prussia, and a misery to himself.
Stein's retirement averted the wrath of Napoleon from the King of Prussia; but the
whole malignity of that Corsican nature broke out against the high-spirited patriot as
soon as fresh victories had released Napoleon from the ill-endured necessity of
self-control. On the 16th of December, when Madrid had again passed into the
possession of the French, an imperial order appeared, which gave the measure of
Napoleon's hatred of the fallen Minister. Stein was denounced as the enemy of the
Empire; his property was confiscated; he was ordered to be seized by the troops of the
Emperor or his allies wherever they could lay their hands upon him. As in the days of
Roman tyranny, the west of Europe could now afford no asylum to the enemies of the
Emperor. Russia and Austria remained the only refuge of the exile. Stein escaped into
Bohemia; and, as the crowning humiliation of the Prussian State, its police were forced
to pursue as a criminal the statesman whose fortitude had still made it possible in the
darkest days for Prussian patriots not to despair of their country.
Central Europe secured by the negotiations with Alexander at Erfurt, Napoleon was
now able to place himself at the head of the French forces in Spain without fear of any
immediate attack from the side of Germany. Since the victory of Baylen the Spaniards
had made little progress either towards good government or towards a good military
administration. The provincial Juntas had consented to subordinate themselves to a
central committee chosen from among their own members; but this new supreme
authority, which held its meetings at Aranjuez, proved one of the worst governments
that even Spain itself had ever endured. It numbered thirty persons, twenty-eight of
whom were priests, nobles, or officials. [152] Its qualities were those engrained in
Spanish official life. In legislation it attempted absolutely nothing but the restoration of
the Inquisition and the protection of Church lands; its administration was confined to a
foolish interference with the better generals, and the acquisition of enormous supplies
of war from Great Britain, which were either stolen by contractors or allowed to fall
into the hands of the French. While the members of the Junta discussed the titles of
honour which were to attach to them collectively and individually, and voted
themselves salaries equal to those of Napoleon's generals, the armies fell into a state of
destitution which scarcely any but Spanish troops would have been capable of
enduring. The energy of the humbler classes alone prolonged the military existence of
the insurrection; the Government organised nothing, comprehended nothing. Its part in
the national movement was confined to a system of begging and boasting, which
demoralised the Spaniards, and bewildered the agents and generals of England who
first attempted the difficult task of assisting the Spaniards to help themselves. When the
approach of army after army, the levies of Germany, Poland, Holland, and Italy, in
addition to Napoleon's own veteran troops of Austerlitz and Jena, gave to the rest of the
world some idea of the enormous force which Napoleon was about to throw on to
Spain, the Spanish Government could form no better design than to repeat the
movement of Baylen against Napoleon himself on the banks of the Ebro.
An English army was slowly and painfully making its way towards the Ebro at the time
when Napoleon broke in pieces the Spanish line of defence. On the 14th of October Sir
John Moore had assumed the command of 20,000 British troops at Lisbon. He was
instructed to march to the neighbourhood of Burgos, and to co-operate with the Spanish
generals upon the Ebro. According to the habit of the English, no allowance was made
for the movements of the enemy while their own were under consideration; and the
mountain-country which Moore had to traverse placed additional obstacles in the way
of an expedition at least a month too late in its starting. Moore believed it to be
impossible to carry his artillery over the direct road from Lisbon to Salamanca, and
sent it round by way of Madrid, while he himself advanced through Ciudad Rodrigo,
reaching Salamanca on the 13th of November. Here, while still waiting for his artillery,
rumours reached him of the destruction of Blake's army at Espinosa, and of the fall of
Burgos. Later came the report of Palafox's overthrow at Tudela. Yet even now Moore
could get no trustworthy information from the Spanish authorities. He remained for
some time in suspense, and finally determined to retreat into Portugal. Orders were sent
to Sir David Baird, who was approaching with reinforcements from Corunna, to turn
back towards the northern coast. Scarcely had Moore formed this decision, when
despatches arrived from Frere, the British agent at Madrid, stating that the Spaniards
were about to defend the capital to the last extremity, and that Moore would be
responsible for the ruin of Spain and the disgrace of England if he failed to advance to
On the 19th of December a report reached Madrid that Moore had suspended his retreat
on Portugal. Napoleon instantly divined the actual movement of the English, and
hurried from Madrid against Moore at the head of 40,000 men. Moore had met Baird
on the 20th at Mayorga; on the 23rd the united British divisions reached Sahagun,
scarcely a day's march from Soult at Saldanha. Here the English commander learnt that
Napoleon himself was on his track. Escape was a question of hours. Napoleon had
pushed across the Guadarama mountains in forced marches through snow and storm.
Had his vanguard been able to seize the bridge over the river Esla at Benavente before
the English crossed it, Moore would have been cut off from all possibility of escape.
The English reached the river first and blew up the bridge. This rescued them from
immediate danger. The defence of the river gave Moore's army a start which rendered
the superiority of Napoleon's numbers of little effect. For a while Napoleon followed
Moore towards the northern coast. On the 1st of January, 1809, he wrote an order
which showed that he looked upon Moore's escape as now inevitable, and on the next
day he quitted the army, leaving to his marshals the honour of toiling after Moore to the
coast, and of seizing some thousands of frozen or drunken British stragglers. Moore
himself pushed on towards Corunna with a rapidity which was dearly paid for by the
demoralisation of his army. The sufferings and the excesses of the troops were
frightful; only the rear-guard, which had to face the enemy, preserved soldierly order.
At length Moore found it necessary to halt and take up position, in order to restore the
discipline of his army. He turned upon Soult at Lugo, and offered battle for two
successive days; but the French general declined an engagement; and Moore, satisfied
with having recruited his troops, continued his march upon Corunna. Soult still
followed. On January 11th the English army reached the sea; but the ships which were
to convey them back to England were nowhere to be seen. A battle was inevitable, and
Moore drew up his troops, 14,000 in number, on a range of low hills outside the town
to await the attack of the French. On the 16th, when the fleet had now come into
harbour, Soult gave battle. The French were defeated at every point of their attack.
Moore fell at the moment of his victory, conscious that the army which he had so
bravely led had nothing more to fear. The embarkation was effected that night; on the
next day the fleet put out to sea.
Napoleon quitted Spain on the 19th of January, 1809, leaving his brother Joseph again
in possession of the capital, and an army of 300,000 men under the best generals of
France engaged with the remnants of a defeated force which had never reached half
that number. No brilliant victories remained to be won; no enemy remained in the field
important enough to require the presence of Napoleon. Difficulties of transit and the
hostility of the people might render the subjugation of Spain a slower process than the
subjugation of Prussia or Italy; but, to all appearance, the ultimate success of the
Emperor's plans was certain, and the worst that lay before his lieutenants was a series
of wearisome and obscure exertions against an inconsiderable foe. Yet, before the
Emperor had been many weeks in Paris, a report reached him from Marshal Lannes
which told of some strange form of military capacity among the people whose armies
were so contemptible in the field. The city of Saragossa, after successfully resisting its
besiegers in the summer of 1808, had been a second time invested after the defeats of
the Spanish armies upon the Ebro. [153] The besiegers themselves were suffering from
extreme scarcity when, on the 22nd of January, 1809, Lannes took up the command.
Lannes immediately called up all the troops within reach, and pressed the battering
operations with the utmost vigour. On the 29th, the walls of Saragossa were stormed in
four different places.
According to all ordinary precedents of war, the French were now in possession of the
city. But the besiegers found that their real work was only beginning. The streets were
trenched and barricaded; every dwelling was converted into a fortress; for twenty days
the French were forced to besiege house by house. In the centre of the town the popular
leaders erected a gallows, and there they hanged every one who flinched from meeting
the enemy. Disease was added to the horrors of warfare. In the cellars, where the
women and children crowded in filth and darkness, a malignant pestilence broke out,
which, at the beginning of February, raised the deaths to five hundred a day. The dead
bodies were unburied; in that poisoned atmosphere the slightest wound produced
mortification and death. At length the powers of the defenders sank. A fourth part of
the town had been won by the French; of the townspeople and peasants who were
within the walls at the beginning of the siege, it is said that thirty thousand had
perished; the remainder could only prolong their defence to fall in a few days more
before disease or the enemy. Even now there were members of the Junta who wished to
fight as long as a man remained, but they were outnumbered. On the 20th of February
what was left of Saragossa capitulated. Its resistance gave to the bravest of Napoleon's
soldiers an impression of horror and dismay new even to men who had passed through
seventeen years of revolutionary warfare, but it failed to retard Napoleon's armies in
the conquest of Spain. No attempt was made to relieve the heroic or ferocious city.
Everywhere the tide of French conquest appeared to be steadily making its advance.
Soult invaded Portugal; in combination with him, two armies moved from Madrid upon
the southern and the south-western provinces of Spain. Oporto fell on the 28th of
March; in the same week the Spanish forces covering the south were decisively beaten
at Ciudad Real and at Medellin upon the line of the Guadiana. The hopes of Europe
fell. Spain itself could expect no second Saragossa. It appeared as if the complete
subjugation of the Peninsula could now only be delayed by the mistakes of the French
generals themselves, and by the untimely removal of that controlling will which had
hitherto made every movement a step forward in conquest.
CHAPTER IX.
Austria preparing for war-The war to be one on behalf of the German Nation-Patriotic
Movement in Prussia-Expected Insurrection in North Germany-Plans of
Campaign-Austrian Manifesto to the Germans-Rising of the Tyrolese-Defeats of the
Archduke Charles in Bavaria-French in Vienna-Attempts of Dörnberg and Schill-Battle
of Aspern-Second Passage of the Danube-Battle of Wagram-Armistice of
Znaim-Austria waiting for events-Wellesley in Spain-He gains the Battle of Talavera,
but retreats-Expedition against Antwerp fails-Austria makes Peace-Treaty of
Vienna-Real Effects of the War of 1809-Austria after 1809-Metternich- Marriage of
Napoleon with Marie Louise-Severance of Napoleon and Alexander-Napoleon annexes
the Papal States, Holland, La Valais, and the North German Coast-The Napoleonic
Empire: Its Benefits and Wrongs-The Czar withdraws from Napoleon's Commercial
System-War with Russia imminent-Wellington in Portugal: Lines of Torres Vedras;
Massena's Campaign of 1810, and retreat-Soult in Andalusia-Wellington's Campaign of
1810-Capture of Ciudad Rodrigo and Badajoz-Salamanca.
Napoleon, quitting Spain in the third week of January, 1809, travelled to Paris with the
utmost haste. He believed Austria to be on the point of declaring war; and on the very
day of his arrival at the capital he called out the contingents of the Rhenish Federation.
In the course of the next few weeks, however, he formed the opinion that Austria
would either decline hostilities altogether, or at least find it impossible to declare war
before the middle of May. For once the efforts of Austria outstripped the calculations
of her enemy. Count Stadion, the earnest and enlightened statesman who had held
power in Austria since the Peace of Presburg, had steadily prepared for a renewal of the
struggle with France. He was convinced that Napoleon would soon enter upon new
enterprises of conquest, and still farther extend his empire at the expense of Austria,
unless attacked before Spain had fallen under his dominion. Metternich, now Austrian
Ambassador at Paris, reported that Napoleon was intending to divide Turkey as soon as
he had conquered Spain; and, although he advised delay, he agreed with the Cabinet at
Vienna that Austria must sooner or later strike in self-defence. [154] Stadion, more
sanguine, was only prevented from declaring war in 1808 by the counsels of the
Archduke Charles and of other generals who were engaged in bringing the immense
mass of new levies into military formation. Charles himself attached little value to the
The war now breaking out was to be a war for the German nation, as the struggle of the
Spaniards had been a struggle for Spain. The animated appeals of the Emperor's
generals formed a singular contrast to the silence with which the Austrian Cabinet had
hitherto entered into its wars. The Hapsburg sovereign now stood before the world less
as the inheritor of an ancient empire and the representative of the Balance of Power
than as the disinterested champion of the German race. On the part of the Emperor
himself the language of devotion for Germany was scarcely more than ironical. Francis
belonged to an age and to a system in which the idea of nationality had no existence;
and, like other sovereigns, he regarded his possessions as a sort of superior property
which ought to be defended by obedient domestic dogs against marauding foreign
wolves. The same personal view of public affairs had hitherto satisfied the Austrians. It
had been enough for them to be addressed as the dutiful children of a wise and
affectionate father. The Emperor spoke the familiar Viennese dialect; he was as homely
in his notions and his prejudices as any beerseller in his dominions; his subjects might
see him at almost any hour of the day or night; and out of the somewhat tough material
of his character popular imagination had no difficulty in framing an idol of parental
geniality and wisdom. Fifteen years of failure and mismanagement had, however,
impaired the beauty of the domestic fiction; and although old-fashioned Austrians, like
Haydn, the composer of the Austrian Hymn, were ready to go down to the grave
invoking a blessing on their gracious master, the Emperor himself and his confidants
were shrewd enough to see that the newly-excited sense of German patriotism would
put them in possession of a force which they could hardly evoke by the old methods.
[Austrian Parties.]
One element of reality lay in the professions which were not for the most part meant
very seriously. There was probably now no statesman in Austria who any longer felt a
jealousy of the power of Prussia. With Count Stadion and his few real supporters the
restoration of Germany was a genuine and deeply-cherished desire; with the majority
of Austrian politicians the interests of Austria herself seemed at least for the present to
require the liberation of North Germany. Thus the impassioned appeals of the
Archduke Charles to all men of German race to rise against their foreign oppressor, and
against their native princes who betrayed the interests of the Fatherland, gained the
sanction of a Court hitherto very little inclined to form an alliance with popular
agitation. If the chaotic disorder of the Austrian Government had been better
understood in Europe, less importance would have been attached to this sudden change
in its tone. No one in the higher ranks at Vienna was bound by the action of his
colleagues. The Emperor, though industrious, had not the capacity to enforce any
coherent system of government. His brothers caballed one against another, and against
the persons who figured as responsible ministers. State-papers were brought by soldiers
to the Emperor for his signature without the knowledge of his advisers. The very
manifestos which seemed to herald a new era for Germany owed most of their vigour
to the literary men who were entrusted with their composition. [155]
The answer likely to be rendered by Germany to the appeal of Austria was uncertain. In
the Rhenish Federation there were undoubted signs of discontent with French rule
among the common people; but the official classes were universally on the side of
Napoleon, who had given them their posts and their salaries; while the troops, and
especially the officers, who remembered the time when they had been mocked by the
Austrians as "harlequins" and "nose-bags," were won by the kindness of the great
conqueror, who organised them under the hands of his own generals, and gave them the
companionship of his own victorious legions. Little could be expected from districts
where to the mass of the population the old régime of German independence had meant
nothing more than attendance at the manor-court of a knight, or the occasional
spectacle of a ducal wedding, or a deferred interest in the droning jobbery of some
hereditary town-councillor. In Northern Germany there was far more prospect of a
national insurrection. There the spirit of Stein and of those who had worked with him
was making itself felt, in spite of the fall of the Minister. Scharnhorst's reforms had
made the Prussian army a school of patriotism, and the work of statesmen and soldiers
was promoted by men who spoke to the feelings and the intelligence of the nation.
Literature lost its indifference to nationality and to home. The philosopher Fichte, the
poet Arndt, the theologian Schleiermacher pressed the claims of Germany and of the
manlier virtues upon a middle class singularly open to literary influences, singularly
wanting in the experience and the impulses of active public life. [156] In the Kingdom
of Westphalia preparations for an insurrection against the French were made by officers
who had served in the Prussian and the Hessian armies. In Prussia itself, by the side of
many nobler agencies, the newly-founded Masonic society of the Tugendbund, or
League of Virtue, made the cause of the Fatherland popular among thousands to whom
it was an agreeable novelty to belong to any society at all. No spontaneous, irresistible
uprising, like that which Europe had seen in the Spanish Peninsula, was to be expected
among the unimpulsive population of the North German plains; but the military circles
of Prussia were generally in favour of war, and an insurrection of the population west
of the Elbe was not improbable in the event of Napoleon's army being defeated by
Austria in the field. King Frederick William, too timid to resolve upon war himself, too
timid even to look with satisfaction upon the bold attitude of Austria, had every reason
for striking, if once the balance should incline against Napoleon: even against his own
inclination it was possible that the ardour of his soldiers might force him into war.
[Plans of campaign.]
So strong were the hopes of a general rising in Northern Germany, that the Austrian
Government to some extent based its plans for the campaign on this event. In the
ordinary course of hostilities between France and Austria the line of operations in
Germany is the valley of the Danube; but in preparing for the war of 1809 the Austrian
Government massed its forces in the north-west of Bohemia, with the object of
throwing them directly upon Central Germany. The French troops which were now
evacuating Prussia were still on their way westwards at the time when Austria was
ready to open the campaign. Davoust, with about 60,000 men, was in Northern
The proclamations now published by the Emperor and the Archduke bore striking
testimony to the influence of the Spanish insurrection in exciting the sense of national
right, and awakening the Governments of Europe to the force which this placed in their
hands. For the first time in history a manifesto was addressed "to the German nation."
The contrast drawn in the Archduke's address to his army between the Spanish patriots
dying in the defence of their country, and the German vassal-contingents dragged by
Napoleon into Spain to deprive a gallant nation of its freedom, was one of the most just
and the most telling that tyranny has ever given to the leaders of a righteous cause.
[157] The Emperor's address "to the German nation" breathed the same spirit. It was
not difficult for the politicians of the Rhenish Federation to ridicule the sudden
enthusiasm for liberty and nationality shown by a Government which up to the present
time had dreaded nothing so much as the excitement of popular movements; but,
however unconcernedly the Emperor and the old school of Austrian statesmen might
adopt patriotic phrases which they had no intention to remember when the struggle was
over, such language was a reality in the effect which it produced upon the thousands
who, both in Austria and other parts of Germany, now for the first time heard the
summons to unite in defence of a common Fatherland.
The leading divisions of the Archduke's army crossed the Inn on the 9th of April.
Besides the forces intended for the invasion of Bavaria, which numbered 170,000 men,
the Austrian Government had formed two smaller armies, with which the Princes
Ferdinand and John were to take up the offensive in the Grand Duchy of Warsaw and
These were the wrongs that fired the simple Tyrolese. They could have borne the visits
of the tax-gatherer and the lists of conscription; they could not bear that their priests
should be overruled, or that their observances should be limited to those sufficient for
ordinary Catholics. Yet, with all its aspect of unreason, the question in the Tyrol was
also part of that larger question whether Napoleon's pleasure should be the rule of
European life, or nations should have some voice in the disposal of their own affairs.
The Tyrolese were not more superstitious, and they were certainty much less cruel,
than the Spaniards. They fought for ecclesiastical absurdities; but their cause was also
the cause of national right, and the admiration which their courage excited in Europe
was well deserved.
Early in the year 1809 the Archduke John had met the leaders of the Tyrolese
peasantry, and planned the first movements of a national insurrection. As soon as the
Austrian army crossed the Inn, the peasants thronged to their appointed meeting-places.
The operations of the Austrian commanders upon the Inn formed a melancholy contrast
to the activity of the mountaineers. In spite of the delay of three weeks in opening the
campaign, Davoust had still not effected his junction with the French troops in
Southern Bavaria, and a rapid movement of the Austrians might even now have
overwhelmed his isolated divisions at Ratisbon. Napoleon himself had remained in
Paris till the last moment, instructing Berthier, the chief of the staff, to concentrate the
vanguard at Ratisbon, if by the 15th of April the enemy had not crossed the Inn, but to
draw back to the line of the Lech if the enemy crossed the Inn before that day.[158] The
Archduke entered Bavaria on the 9th; but, instead of retiring to the Lech, Berthier
allowed the army to be scattered over an area sixty miles broad, from Ratisbon to
points above Augsburg. Davoust lay at Ratisbon, a certain prey if the Archduke pushed
forwards with vigour and thrust his army between the northern and the southern
positions of the French. But nothing could change the sluggishness of the Austrian
march. The Archduke was six days in moving from the Inn to the Isar; and before the
order was given for an advance upon Ratisbon, Napoleon himself had arrived at
Donauwörth, and taken the command out of the hands of his feeble lieutenant.
It needed all the Emperor's energy to snatch victory from the enemy's grasp. Davoust
was bidden to fall back from Ratisbon to Neustadt; the most pressing orders were sent
to Massena, who commanded the right at Augsburg, to push forward to the north-east
in the direction of his colleague, before the Austrians could throw the mass of their
forces upon Davoust's weak corps. Both generals understood the urgency of the
command. Davoust set out from Ratisbon on the morning of the 19th. He was attacked
by the Archduke, but so feebly and irresolutely that, with all their superiority in
numbers, the Austrians failed to overpower the enemy at any one point. Massena,
immediately after receiving his orders, hurried from Augsburg north-eastwards, while
Napoleon himself advanced into the mid-space between the two generals, and brought
the right and left wings of the French army into communication with one another. In
two days after the Emperor's arrival all the advantages of the Austrians were gone: the
French, so lately exposed to destruction, formed a concentrated mass in the presence of
a scattered enemy. The issue of the campaign was decided by the movements of these
two days. Napoleon was again at the head of 150,000 men; the Archduke, already
baulked in his first attack upon Davoust, was seized with unworthy terror when he
found that Napoleon himself was before him, and resigned himself to anticipations of
ruin.
The disasters of the Bavarian campaign involved the sacrifice of all that had resulted
from Austrian victories elsewhere, and of all that might have been won by a general
insurrection in Northern Germany. In Poland and in Italy the war had opened
favourably for Austria. Warsaw had been seized; Eugene Beauharnais, the Viceroy of
Italy, had been defeated by the Archduke John at Sacile, in Venetia; but it was
impossible to pursue these advantages when the capital itself was on the point of falling
into the hands of the enemy. The invading armies halted, and ere long the Archduke
John commenced his retreat into the mountains. In Northern Germany no popular
uprising could be expected when once Austria had been defeated. The only movements
that took place were undertaken by soldiers, and undertaken before the disasters in
Bavaria became known. The leaders in this military conspiracy were Dörnberg, an
officer in the service of King Jerome of Westphalia, and Schill, the Prussian cavalry
leader who had so brilliantly distinguished himself in the defence of Colberg. Dörnberg
had taken service under Jerome with the design of raising Jerome's own army against
him. It had been agreed by the conspirators that at the same moment Dörnberg should
raise the Hessian standard in Westphalia, and Schill, marching from Berlin with any
part of the Prussian army that would follow him, should proclaim war against the
On reaching Halle, Schill learnt of the overthrow of the Archduke and of Dörnberg's
ruin in Westphalia. All hope of success in the enterprise on which he had quitted Berlin
was dashed to the ground. The possibility of raising a popular insurrection vanished.
Schill, however, had gone too far to recede; and even now it was not too late to join the
armies of Napoleon's enemies. Schill might move into Bohemia, or to some point on
the northern coast where he would be within reach of English vessels. But in any case
quick and steady decision was necessary; and this Schill could not attain. Though brave
even to recklessness, and gifted with qualities which made him the idol of the public,
Schill lacked the disinterestedness and self-mastery which calm the judgment in time of
trial. The sudden ruin of his hopes left him without a plan. He wasted day after day in
purposeless marches, while the enemy collected a force to overwhelm him. His
influence over his men became impaired; the denunciations of the Prussian
Government prevented other soldiers from joining him. At length Schill determined to
recross the Elbe, and to throw himself into the coast town of Stralsund, in Swedish
Pomerania. He marched through Mecklenburg, and suddenly appeared before Stralsund
at moment when the French cannoneers in garrison were firing a salvo in honour of
Napoleon's entry into Vienna. A hand-to-hand fight gave Schill possession of the town,
with all its stores. For a moment it seemed as if Stralsund might become a second
Saragossa; but the French were at hand before it was possible to create works of
defence. Schill had but eighteen hundred men, half of whom were cavalry; he
understood nothing of military science, and would listen to no counsels. A week after
his entry into Stralsund the town was stormed by a force four times more numerous
than its defenders. Capitulation was no word for the man who had dared to make a
private war upon Napoleon; Schill could only set the example of an heroic death. [159]
The officers who were not so fortunate as to fall with their leader were shot in cold
blood, after trial by a French court-martial. Six hundred common soldiers who
surrendered were sent to the galleys of Toulon to sicken among French thieves and
murderers. The cruelty of the conqueror, the heroism of the conquered, gave to Schill's
ill-planned venture the importance of a great act of patriotic martyrdom. Another
example had been given of self-sacrifice in the just cause. Schill's faults were forgotten;
his memory deepened the passion with which all the braver spirits of Germany now
looked for the day of reckoning with their oppressor. [160]
Napoleon had finished the first act of the war of 1809 by the occupation of Vienna; but
no peace was possible until the Austrian army, which lay upon the opposite bank of the
river, had been attacked and beaten. Four miles below Vienna the Danube is divided
into two streams by the island of Lobau: the southern stream is the main channel of the
river, the northern is only a hundred and fifty yards broad. It was here that Napoleon
determined to make the passage. The broad arm of the Danube, sheltered by the island
from the enemy's fire, was easily bridged by boats; the passage from the island to the
northern bank, though liable to be disputed by the Austrians, was facilitated by the
narrowing of the stream. On the 18th of May, Napoleon, supposing himself to have
made good the connection between the island and the southern bank, began to bridge
the northern arm of the river. His movements were observed by the enemy, but no
opposition was offered. On the 20th a body of 40,000 French crossed to the northern
bank, and occupied the villages of Aspern and Essling. This was the movement for
which the Archduke Charles, who had now 80,000 men under arms, had been waiting.
Early on the 21st a mass of heavily-laden barges was let loose by the Austrians above
the island. The waters of the Danube were swollen by the melting of the snows, and at
midday the bridges of the French over the broad arm of the river were swept away. A
little later, dense Austrian columns were seen advancing upon the villages of Aspern
and Essling, where the French, cut off from their supports, had to meet an
overpowering enemy in front, with an impassable river in their rear. The attack began
at four in the afternoon; when night fell the French had been driven out of Aspern,
though they still held the Austrians at bay in their other position at Essling. During the
night the long bridges were repaired; forty thousand additional troops moved across the
island to the northern bank of the Danube; and the engagement was renewed, now
between equal numbers, on the following morning. Five times the village of Aspern
was lost and won. In the midst of the struggle the long bridges were again carried
away. Unable to break the enemy, unable to bring up any new forces from Vienna,
Napoleon ordered a retreat. The army was slowly withdrawn into the island of Lobau.
There for the next two days it lay without food and without ammunition, severed from
Vienna, and exposed to certain destruction if the Archduke could have thrown his army
across the narrow arm of the river and renewed the engagement. But the Austrians were
in no condition to follow up their victory. Their losses were enormous; their stores
were exhausted. The moments in which a single stroke might have overthrown the
whole fabric of Napoleon's power were spent in forced inaction. By the third day after
the battle of Aspern the communications between the island and the mainland were
restored, and Napoleon's energy had brought the army out of immediate danger.
[Effect on Europe.]
Nevertheless, although the worst was averted, and the French now lay secure in their
island fortress, the defeat of Aspern changed the position of Napoleon in the eyes of all
Europe. The belief in his invincibility was destroyed; he had suffered a defeat in
person, at the head of his finest troops, from an enemy little superior in strength to
himself. The disasters of the Austrians in the opening of the campaign were forgotten;
everywhere the hopes of resistance woke into new life. Prussian statesmen urged their
King to promise his support if Austria should gain one more victory. Other enemies
were ready to fall upon Napoleon without waiting for this condition. England collected
an immense armament destined for an attack upon some point of the northern coast.
Germany, lately mute and nerveless, gave threatening signs. The Duke of Brunswick,
driven from his inheritance after his father's death at Jena, invaded the dominions of
Napoleon's vassal, the King of Saxony, and expelled him from his capital. Popular
insurrections broke out in Würtemberg and in Westphalia, and proved the rising force
of national feeling even in districts where the cause of Germany lately seemed so
hopelessly lost.
But Napoleon concerned himself little with these remoter enemies. Every energy of his
mind was bent to the one great issue on which victory depended, the passage of the
Danube. His chances of success were still good, if the French troops watching the
enemy between Vienna and the Adriatic could be brought up in time for the final
struggle. The Archduke Charles was in no hurry for a battle, believing that every hour
increased the probability of an attack upon Napoleon by England or Prussia, or
insurgent Germany. Never was the difference between Napoleon and his ablest
adversaries more strikingly displayed than in the work which was accomplished by him
during this same interval. He had determined that in the next battle his army should
march across the Danube as safely and as rapidly as it could march along the streets of
Vienna. Two solid bridges were built on piles across the broad arm of the river; no less
than six bridges of rafts were made ready to be thrown across the narrow arm when the
moment arrived for the attack. By the end of June all the outlying divisions of the
French army had gathered to the great rallying-point; a hundred and eighty thousand
men were in the island, or ready to enter it; every movement, every position to be
occupied by each member of this vast mass in its passage and advance, was fixed down
to the minutest details. Napoleon had decided to cross from the eastern, not from the
northern side of the island, and thus to pass outside the fortifications which the
Archduke had erected on the former battlefield. Towards midnight on the 4th of July,
in the midst of a violent storm, the six bridges were successively swung across the
river. The artillery opened fire. One army corps after another, each drawn up opposite
to its own bridge, marched to the northern shore, and by sunrise nearly the whole of
Napoleon's force deployed on the left bank of the Danube. The river had been
converted into a great highway; the fortifications which had been erected by the
Archduke were turned by the eastward direction of the passage. All that remained for
the Austrian commander was to fight a pitched battle on ground that was now at least
thoroughly familiar to him. Charles had taken up a good position on the hills that look
over the village of Wagram. Here, with 130,000 men, he awaited the attack of the
French. The first attack was made in the afternoon after the crossing of the river. It
failed; and the French army lay stretched during the night between the river and the
hills, while the Archduke prepared to descend upon their left on the morrow, and to
force himself between the enemy and the bridges behind them.
Early on the morning of the 6th the two largest armies that had ever been brought face
to face in Europe began their onslaught. Spectators from the steeples of Vienna saw the
For the moment the eyes of all Europe were fixed upon the British army in Spain. Sir
Arthur Wellesley, who took command at Lisbon in the spring, had driven Soult out of
Oporto, and was advancing by the valley of the Tagus upon the Spanish capital. Some
appearance of additional strength was given to him by the support of a Spanish army
under the command of General Cuesta. Wellesley's march had, however, been delayed
by the neglect and bad faith of the Spanish Government, and time had been given to
Soult to collect a large force in the neighbourhood of Salamanca, ready either to fall
upon Wellesley from the north, or to unite with another French army which lay at
Talavera, if its commander, Victor, had the wisdom to postpone an engagement. The
English general knew nothing of Soult's presence on his flank: he continued his march
towards Madrid along the valley of the Tagus, and finally drew up for battle at
Talavera, when Victor, after retreating before Cuesta to some distance, hunted back his
Spanish pursuer to the point from which he had started.[161] The first attack was made
by Victor upon the English positions at evening on the 27th of July. Next morning the
assault was renewed, and the battle became general. Wellesley gained a complete
victory, but the English themselves suffered heavily, and the army remained in its
position. Within the next few days Soult was discovered to be descending from the
mountains between Salamanca and the Tagus. A force superior to Wellesley's own
threatened to close upon him from the rear, and to hem him in between two fires. The
sacrifices of Talavera proved to have been made in vain. Wellesley had no choice but
to abandon his advance upon the Spanish capital, and to fall back upon Portugal by the
roads south of the Tagus. In spite of the defeat of Victor, the French were the winners
of the campaign. Madrid was still secure; the fabric of French rule in the Spanish
Peninsula was still unshaken. The tidings of Wellesley's retreat reached Napoleon and
Three months before the Austrian Government declared war upon Napoleon, it had
acquainted Great Britain with its own plans, and urged the Cabinet to dispatch an
English force to Northern Germany. Such a force, landing at the time of the battle of
Aspern, would certainly have aroused both Prussia and the country between the Elbe
and the Maine. But the difference between a movement executed in time and one
executed weeks and months too late was still unknown at the English War Office. The
Ministry did not even begin their preparations till the middle of June, and then they
determined, in pursuance of a plan made some years earlier, to attack the French fleet
and docks at Antwerp, and to ignore that patriotic movement in Northern Germany
from which they had so much to hope.
[Total failure.]
On the 28th of July, two months after the battle of Aspern and three weeks after the
battle of Wagram, a fleet of thirty-seven ships of the line, with innumerable transports
and gunboats, set sail from Dover for the Schelde. Forty thousand troops were on
board; the commander of the expedition was the Earl of Chatham, a court-favourite in
whom Nature avenged herself upon Great Britain for what she had given to this
country in his father and his younger brother. The troops were landed on the island of
Walcheren. Instead of pushing forward to Antwerp with all possible haste, and
surprising it before any preparations could be made for its defence, Lord Chatham
placed half his army on the banks of various canals, and with the other half proceeded
to invest Flushing. On the 16th of August this unfortunate town surrendered, after a
bombardment that had reduced it to a mass of ruins. During the next ten days the
English commander advanced about as many miles, and then discovered that for all
prospect of taking Antwerp he might as well have remained in England. Whilst
Chatham was groping about in Walcheren, the fortifications of Antwerp were restored,
the fleet carried up the river, and a mass of troops collected sufficient to defend the
town against a regular siege. Defeat stared the English in the face. At the end of August
the general recommended the Government to recall the expedition, only leaving a force
of 15,000 soldiers to occupy the marshes of Walcheren. Chatham's recommendations
were accepted; and on a spot so notoriously pestiferous that Napoleon had refused to
permit a single French soldier to serve there on garrison duty, [162] an English
army-corps, which might at least have earned the same honour as Schill and Brunswick
in Northern Germany, was left to perish of fever and ague. When two thousand soldiers
were in their graves, the rest were recalled to England.
Great Britain had failed to weaken or to alarm Napoleon; the King of Prussia made no
movement on behalf of the losing cause; and the Austrian Government unwillingly
found itself compelled to accept conditions of peace. It was not so much a deficiency in
its forces as the universal distrust of its generals that made it impossible for Austria to
continue the war. The soldiers had fought as bravely as the French, but in vain. "If we
had a million soldiers," it was said, "we must make peace; for we have no one to
The Treaty of Vienna, the last which Napoleon signed as a conqueror, took from the
Austrian Empire 50,000 square miles of territory and more than 4,000,000 inhabitants.
Salzburg, with part of Upper Austria, was ceded to Bavaria; Western Galicia, the
territory gained by Austria in the final partition of Poland, was transferred to the
Grand-Duchy of Warsaw; part of Carinthia, with the whole of the country lying
between the Adriatic and the Save as far as the frontier of Bosnia, was annexed to
Napoleon's own Empire, under the title of the Illyrian Provinces. Austria was cut off
from the sea, and the dominion of Napoleon extended without a break to the borders of
Turkey. Bavaria and Saxony, the outposts of French sovereignty in Central Europe,
were enriched at the expense of the Power which had called Germany to arms; Austria,
which at the beginning of the Revolutionary War had owned territory upon the Rhine
and exercised a predominating influence over all Italy, seemed now to be finally
excluded both from Germany and the Mediterranean. Yet, however striking the change
of frontier which gave to Napoleon continuous dominion from the Straits of Calais to
the border of Bosnia, the victories of France in 1809 brought in their train none of those
great moral changes which had hitherto made each French conquest a stage in
European progress. The campaign of 1796 had aroused the hope of national
independence in Italy; the settlements of 1801 and 1806 had put an end to Feudalism in
Western Germany; the victories of 1809 originated nothing but a change of frontier
such as the next war might obliterate and undo. All that was permanent in the effects of
the year 1809 was due, not to any new creations of Napoleon, but to the spirit of
resistance which France had at length excited in Europe. The revolt of the Tyrol, the
exploits of Brunswick and Schill, gave a stimulus to German patriotism which survived
the defeat of Austria. Austria itself, though overpowered, had inflicted a deadly injury
upon Napoleon, by withdrawing him from Spain at the moment when he might have
completed its conquest, and by enabling Wellesley to gain a footing in the Peninsula.
Napoleon appeared to have gathered a richer spoil from the victories of 1809 than from
any of his previous wars; in reality he had never surrounded himself with so many
dangers. Russia was alienated by the annexation of West Galicia to the Polish Grand
Duchy of Warsaw; Northern Germany had profited by the examples of courage and
patriotism shown so largely in 1809 on behalf of the Fatherland; Spain, supported by
Austria itself could only acquiesce in defeat: nor perhaps would the permanent interests
of Europe have been promoted by its success. The championship of Germany which it
assumed at the beginning of the war would no doubt have resulted in the temporary
establishment of some form of German union under Austrian leadership, if the event of
the war had been different; but the sovereign of Hungary and Croatia could never be
the true head of the German people; and the conduct of the Austrian Government after
the peace of 1809 gave little reason to regret its failure to revive a Teutonic Empire. No
portion of the Emperor's subjects had fought for him with such determined loyalty as
the Tyrolese. After having been the first to throw off the yoke of the stranger, they had
again and again freed their country when Napoleon's generals supposed all resistance
overcome; and in return for their efforts the Emperor had solemnly assured them that
he would never accept a peace which did not restore them to his Empire. If fair dealing
was due anywhere it was due from the Court of Austria to the Tyrolese. Yet the only
reward of the simple courage of these mountaineers was that the war-party at
head-quarters recklessly employed them as a means of prolonging, hostilities after the
armistice of Znaim, and that up to the moment when peace was signed they were left in
the belief that the Emperor meant to keep his promise, Austria, however, could not ruin
herself to please the Tyrolese. Circumstances were changed; and the phrases of
patriotism which had excited so much rejoicing at the beginning of the war were now
fallen out of fashion at Vienna. Nothing more was heard about the rights of nations and
the deliverance of Germany. Austria had made a great venture and failed; and the
Government rather resumed than abandoned its normal attitude in turning its back upon
the professions of 1809.
[Metternich.]
shown by Metternich to the French ambassador at Berlin during the war between
France and Austria in 1805. Metternich carried with him all the friendliness of personal
intercourse which Napoleon expected in him, but he also carried with him a calm and
penetrating self-possession, and the conviction that Napoleon would give Europe no
rest until his power was greatly diminished. He served Austria well at Paris, and in the
negotiations for peace which followed the battle of Wagram he took a leading part.
After the disasters of 1809, when war was impossible and isolation ruin, no statesman
could so well serve Austria as one who had never confessed himself the enemy of any
Power; and, with the full approval of Napoleon, the late Ambassador at Paris was
placed at the head of the Austrian State.
Metternich's first undertaking gave singular evidence of the flexibility of system which
was henceforward to guard Austria's interests. Before the grass had grown over the
graves at Wagram, the Emperor Francis was persuaded to give his daughter in marriage
to Napoleon. For some time past Napoleon had determined on divorcing Josephine and
allying himself to one of the reigning houses of the Continent. His first advances were
made at St. Petersburg; but the Czar hesitated to form a connection which his subjects
would view as a dishonour; and the opportunity was seized by the less fastidious
Austrians as soon as the fancies of the imperial suitor turned towards Vienna. The
Emperor Francis, who had been bullied by Napoleon upon the field of Austerlitz,
ridiculed and insulted in every proclamation issued during the late campaign, gave up
his daughter for what was called the good of his people, and reconciled himself to a
son-in-law who had taken so many provinces for his dowry. Peace had not been
proclaimed four months when the treaty was signed which united the House of
Bonaparte to the family of Marie Antoinette. The Archduke Charles represented
Napoleon in the espousals; the Archbishop of Vienna anointed the bride with the same
sacred oil with which he had consecrated the banners of 1809; the servile press which
narrated the wedding festivities found no space to mention that the Emperor's bravest
subject, the Tyrolese leader Hofer, was executed by Napoleon as a brigand in the
interval between the contract and the celebration of the marriage. Old Austrian
families, members of the only aristocracy upon the Continent that still possessed
political weight and a political tradition, lamented the Emperor's consent to a union
which their prejudices called a mis-alliance, and their consciences an adultery; but the
object of Metternich was attained. The friendship between France and Russia, which
had inflicted so much evil on the Continent since the Peace of Tilsit, was dissolved; the
sword of Napoleon was turned away from Austria for at least some years; the
restoration of the lost provinces of the Hapsburg seemed not impossible, now that
Napoleon and Alexander were left face to face in Europe, and the alliance of Austria
had become so important to the power which had hitherto enriched itself at Austria's
expense.
Napoleon crowned his new bride, and felt himself at length the equal of the Hapsburgs
and the Bourbons. Except in Spain, his arms were no longer resisted upon the
Continent, and the period immediately succeeding the Peace of Vienna was that which
brought the Napoleonic Empire to its widest bounds. Already, in the pride of the first
The next of Napoleon's vassals who lost his throne was the King of Holland. Like
Joseph in Spain, and like Murat in Naples, Louis Bonaparte had made an honest effort
to govern for the benefit of his subjects. He had endeavoured to lighten the burdens
which Napoleon laid upon the Dutch nation, already deprived of its colonies, its
commerce, and its independence; and every plea which Louis had made for his subjects
had been treated by Napoleon as a breach of duty towards himself. The offence of the
unfortunate King of Holland became unpardonable when he neglected to enforce the
orders of Napoleon against the admission of English goods. Louis was summoned to
Paris, and compelled to sign a treaty, ceding part of his dominions and placing his
custom-houses in the hands of French officers. He returned to Holland, but affairs grew
worse and worse. French troops overran the country; Napoleon's letters were each more
menacing than the last; and at length Louis fled from his dominions (July 1, 1810), and
delivered himself from a royalty which had proved the most intolerable kind of
servitude. A week later Holland was incorporated with the French Empire.
Two more annexations followed before the end of the year. The Republic of the Valais
was declared to have neglected the duty imposed upon it of repairing the road over the
Simplon, and forfeited its independence. The North German coast district, comprising
the Hanse towns, Oldenburg, and part of the Kingdom of Westphalia, was annexed to
the French Empire, with the alleged object of more effectually shutting out British
goods from the ports of the Elbe and the Weser. Hamburg, however, and most of the
territory now incorporated with France, had been occupied by French troops ever since
the war of 1806, and the legal change in its position scarcely made its subjection more
complete. Had the history of this annexation been written by men of the peasant-class,
it would probably have been described in terms of unmixed thankfulness and praise. In
the Decree introducing the French principle of the free tenure of land, thirty-six distinct
forms of feudal service are enumerated, as abolished without compensation. [165]
Napoleon's dominion had now reached its widest bounds. The frontier of the Empire
began at Lübeck on the Baltic, touched the Rhine at Wesel, and followed the river and
[Commercial blockade.]
The close of the year 1810 saw the last changes effected which Europe was destined to
receive at the hands of Napoleon. The fabric of his sovereignty was raised upon the
ruins of all that was obsolete and forceless upon the western Continent; the benefits as
well as the wrongs or his supremacy were now seen in their widest operation. All Italy,
the northern districts of Germany which were incorporated with the Empire, and a great
part of the Confederate Territory of the Rhine, received in the Code Napoleon a law
which, to an extent hitherto unknown in Europe, brought social justice into the daily
affairs of life. The privileges of the noble, the feudal burdens of the peasant, the
monopolies of the guilds, passed away, in most instances for ever. The comfort and
improvement of mankind were vindicated as the true aim of property by the abolition
of the devices which convert the soil into an instrument of family pride, and by the
enforcement of a fair division of inheritances among the children of the possessor.
Legal process, both civil and criminal, was brought within the comprehension of
ordinary citizens, and submitted to the test of publicity. These were among the fruits of
an earlier enlightenment which Napoleon's supremacy bestowed upon a great part of
Europe. The price which was paid for them was the suppression of every vestige of
liberty, the conscription, and the Continental blockade. On the whole, the yoke was
patiently borne. The Italians and the Germans of the Rhenish Confederacy cared little
what Government they obeyed; their recruits who were sent to be killed by the
Austrians or the Spaniards felt it no especial hardship to fight Napoleon's battles. More
galling was the pressure of Napoleon's commercial system and of the agencies by
which he attempted to enforce it. In the hope of ruining the trade of Great Britain,
Napoleon spared no severity against the owners of anything that had touched British
hands, and deprived the Continent of its entire supply of colonial produce, with the
exception of such as was imported at enormous charges by traders licensed by himself.
The possession of English goods became a capital offence. In the great trading towns a
system of permanent terrorism was put in force against the merchants. Soldiers
It was not, however, by its effects upon Napoleon's German vassals that the Continental
system contributed to the fall of its author. Whatever the discontent of these
communities, they obeyed Napoleon as long as he was victorious, and abandoned him
only when his cause was lost. Its real political importance lay in the hostility which it
excited between France and Russia. The Czar, who had attached himself to Napoleon's
commercial system at the Peace of Tilsit, withdrew from it in the year succeeding the
Peace of Vienna. The trade of the Russian Empire had been ruined by the closure of its
ports to British vessels and British goods. Napoleon had broken his promise to Russia
by adding West Galicia to the Polish Duchy of Warsaw; and the Czar refused to
sacrifice the wealth of his subjects any longer in the interest of an insincere ally. At the
end of the year 1810 an order was published at St. Petersburg, opening the harbours of
Russia to all ships bearing a neutral flag, and imposing a duty upon many of the
products of France. This edict was scarcely less than a direct challenge to the French
Emperor. Napoleon exaggerated the effect of his Continental prohibitions upon English
traffic. He imagined that the command of the European coast-line, and nothing short of
this, would enable him to exhaust his enemy; and he was prepared to risk a war with
Russia rather than permit it to frustrate his long-cherished hopes. Already in the
Austrian marriage Napoleon had marked the severance of his interests from those of
Alexander. An attempted compromise upon the affairs of Poland produced only new
alienation and distrust; an open affront was offered to Alexander in the annexation of
the Duchy of Oldenburg, whose sovereign was a member of his own family. The last
event was immediately followed by the publication of the new Russian tariff. In the
spring of 1811 Napoleon had determined upon war. With Spain still unsubdued, he had
no motive to hurry on hostilities; Alexander on his part was still less ready for action;
and the forms of diplomatic intercourse were in consequence maintained for some time
longer at Paris and St. Petersburg. But the true nature of the situation was shown by the
immense levies that were ordered both in France and Russia; and the rest of the year
was spent in preparations for the campaign which was destined to decide the fate of
Europe.
In June, 1810, Marshal Massena, who had won the highest distinction at Aspern and
Wagram, arrived in Spain, and took up the command of the army destined for the
conquest of Portugal. Ciudad Rodrigo was invested: Wellington, too weak to effect its
relief, too wise to jeopardise his army for the sake of Spanish praise, lay motionless
while this great fortress fell into the hands of the invader. In September, the French,
70,000 strong, entered Portugal. Wellington retreated down the valley of the Mondego,
devastating the country. At length he halted at Busaco and gave battle (September 27).
The French were defeated; the victory gave the Portuguese full confidence in the
English leader; but other roads were open to the invader, and Wellington continued his
retreat. Massena followed, and heard for the first time of the fortifications of Torres
Vedras when he was within five days' march of them. On nearing the mountain-barrier,
Massena searched in vain for an unprotected point. Fifty thousand English and
Portuguese regular troops, besides a multitude of Portuguese militia, were collected
behind the lines; with the present number of the French an assault was hopeless.
Massena waited for reinforcements. It was with the utmost difficulty that he could keep
his army from starving; at length, when the country was utterly exhausted, he
commenced his retreat (Nov. 14). Wellington descended from the heights, but his
marching force was still too weak to risk a pitched battle. Massena halted and took post
at Santarem, on the Tagus. Here, and in the neighbouring valley of the Zezere, he
maintained himself during the winter. But in March, 1811, reinforcements arrived from
England: Wellington moved forward against his enemy, and the retreat of the French
began in real earnest. Massena made his way northwards, hard pressed by the English,
and devastating the country with merciless severity in order to retard pursuit. Fire and
ruin marked the track of the retreating army; but such were the sufferings of the French
themselves, both during the invasion and the retreat, that when Massena re-entered
Spain, after a campaign in which only one pitched battle had been fought, his loss
exceeded 30,000 men.
Other French armies, in spite of a most destructive guerilla warfare, were in the
meantime completing the conquest of the south and the east of Spain. Soult captured
Seville, and began to lay siege to Cadiz. Here, at the end of 1810, an order reached him
from Napoleon to move to the support of Massena. Leaving Victor in command at
Cadiz, Soult marched northwards, routed the Spaniards, and conquered the fortress of
Badajoz, commanding the southern road into Portugal. Massena, however, was already
in retreat, and Soult's own advance was cut short by intelligence that Graham, the
English general in Cadiz, had broken out upon the besiegers and inflicted a heavy
defeat. Soult returned to Cadiz and resumed the blockade. Wellington, thus freed from
danger of attack from the south, and believing Massena to be thoroughly disabled,
considered that the time had come for a forward movement into Spain. It was necessary
for him to capture the fortresses of Almeida and Ciudad Rodrigo on the northern road,
and to secure his own communications with Portugal by wresting back Badajoz from
the French. He left a small force to besiege Almeida, and moved to Elvas to make
arrangements with Beresford for the siege of Badajoz. But before the English
commander had deemed it possible, the energy of Massena had restored his troops to
efficiency; and the two armies of Massena and Soult were now ready to assail the
English on the north and the south. Massena marched against the corps investing
Almeida. Wellington hastened back to meet him, and fought a battle at Fuentes
d'Onoro. The French were defeated; Almeida passed into the hands of the English. In
the south, Soult advanced to the relief of Badajoz. He was overthrown by Beresford in
the bloody engagement of Albuera (May 16th); but his junction with the army of the
north, which was now transferred from Massena to Marmont, forced the English to
raise the siege; and Wellington, after audaciously offering battle to the combined
French armies, retired within the Portuguese frontier, and marched northwards with the
design of laying siege to Ciudad Rodrigo. Again outnumbered by the French, he was
compelled to retire to cantonments on the Coa.
Throughout the autumn months, which were spent in forced inaction, Wellington held
patiently to his belief that the French would be unable to keep their armies long united,
on account of the scarcity of food. His calculations were correct, and at the close of the
year 1811 the English were again superior in the field. Wellington moved against
Ciudad Rodrigo, and took it by storm on the 19th of January, 1812. The road into Spain
was opened; it only remained to secure Portugal itself by the capture of Badajoz.
Wellington crossed the Tagus on the 8th of March, and completed the investment of
It was in the summer of 1812, when Napoleon was now upon the point of opening the
Russian campaign, that Wellington advanced against Marmont's positions in the north
of Spain and the French lines of communication with the capital. Marmont fell back
and allowed Wellington to pass Salamanca; but on reaching the Douro he turned upon
his adversary, and by a succession of swift and skilful marches brought the English into
some danger of losing their communications with Portugal. Wellington himself now
retreated as far as Salamanca, and there gave battle (July 22). A decisive victory freed
the English army from its peril, and annihilated all the advantages gained by Marmont's
strategy and speed. The French were so heavily defeated that they had to fall back on
Burgos. Wellington marched upon Madrid. At his approach King Joseph fled from the
capital, and ordered Soult to evacuate Andalusia, and to meet him at Valencia, on the
eastern coast. Wellington entered Madrid amidst the wild rejoicing of the Spaniards,
and then turned northwards to complete the destruction of the army which he had
beaten at Salamanca. But the hour of his final success was not yet come. His advance
upon Madrid, though wise as a political measure, had given the French northern army
time to rally. He was checked by the obstinate defence of Burgos; and finding the
French strengthened by the very abandonment of territory which his victory had forced
upon them, he retired to Portugal, giving to King Joseph a few months' more precarious
enjoyment of his vassal-sovereignty before his final and irrevocable overthrow.
In Spain itself the struggle of the nation for its independence had produced a political
revolution as little foreseen by the Spaniards as by Napoleon himself when the conflict
began. When, in 1808, the people had taken up arms for its native dynasty, the voices
of those who demanded a reform in the abuses of the Bourbon government had
scarcely been heard amid the tumult of loyal enthusiasm for Ferdinand. There existed,
however, a group of liberally-minded men in Spain; and as soon as the invasion of the
French and the subsequent successes of the Spaniards had overthrown both the old
repressive system of the Bourbons and that which Napoleon attempted to put in its
place, the opinions of these men, hitherto scarcely known outside the circle of their
own acquaintances, suddenly became a power in the country through the liberation of
the press. Jovellanos, an upright and large-minded statesman, who had suffered a long
imprisonment in the last reign in consequence of his labours in the cause of progress,
The Spanish Liberals of 1809 made the same attack upon despotic power, and upheld
the same theories of popular right, as the leaders of the French nation twenty years
before. Against them was ranged the whole force of Spanish officialism, soon to be
supported by the overwhelming power of the clergy. In the outset, however, the
Liberals carefully avoided infringing on the prerogatives of the Church. Thus
accommodating its policy to the Catholic spirit of the nation, the party of reform
gathered strength throughout the year 1809, as disaster after disaster excited the wrath
of the people against both the past and the present holders of power. It was determined
by the Junta that the Cortes should assemble on the 1st of March, 1810. According to
the ancient usage of Spain, each of the Three Estates, the Clergy, the Nobles, and the
Commons, would have been represented in the Cortes by a separate assembly. The
opponents of reform pressed for the maintenance of this mediæval order, the Liberals
declared for a single Chamber; the Junta, guided by Jovellanos, adopted a middle
course, and decided that the higher clergy and nobles should be jointly represented by
one Chamber, the Commons by a second. Writs of election had already been issued,
when the Junta, driven to Cadiz by the advance of the French armies, and assailed alike
by Liberals, by reactionists, and by city mobs, ended its ineffective career, and resigned
its powers into the hands of a Regency composed of five persons (Jan. 30, 1810). Had
the Regency immediately taken steps to assemble the Cortes, Spain would probably
have been content with the moderate reforms which two Chambers, formed according
to the plans of Jovellanos, would have been likely to sanction. The Regency, however,
preferred to keep power in its own hands and ignored the promise which the Junta had
given to the nation. Its policy of obstruction, which was continued for months after the
time when the Cortes ought to have assembled, threw the Liberal party into the hands
of men of extremes, and prepared the way for revolution instead of reform. It was only
when the report reached Spain that Ferdinand was about to marry the daughter of King
Joseph, and to accept the succession to the Spanish crown from the usurper himself,
that the Regency consented to convoke the Cortes. But it was now no longer possible to
create an Upper House to serve as a check upon the popular Assembly. A single
Chamber was elected, and elected in great part within the walls of Cadiz itself; for the
representatives of districts where the presence of French soldiery rendered election
impossible were chosen by refugees from those districts within Cadiz, amid the tumults
of political passion which stir a great city in time of war and revolution.
On the 24th of September, 1810, the Cortes opened. Its first act was to declare the
sovereignty of the people, its next act to declare the freedom of the Press. In every
debate a spirit of bitter hatred towards the old system of government and of deep
distrust towards Ferdinand himself revealed itself in the speeches of the Liberal
deputies, although no one in the Assembly dared to avow the least want of loyalty
towards the exiled House. The Liberals knew how passionate was the love of the
Spanish people for their Prince; but they resolved that, if Ferdinand returned to his
throne, he should return without the power to revive the old abuses of Bourbon rule. In
this spirit the Assembly proceeded to frame a Constitution for Spain. The Crown was
treated as the antagonist and corrupter of the people; its administrative powers were
jealously reduced; it was confronted by an Assembly to be elected every two years, and
the members of this Assembly were prohibited both from holding office under the
Crown, and from presenting themselves for re-election at the end of their two years'
service. To a Representative Body thus excluded from all possibility of gaining any
practical acquaintance with public affairs was entrusted not only the right of making
laws, but the control of every branch of government. The executive was reduced to a
mere cypher.
Such was the Constitution which, under the fire of the French artillery now
encompassing Cadiz, the Cortes of Spain proclaimed in the spring of the year 1812. Its
principles had excited the most vehement opposition within the Assembly itself; by the
nation, or at least that part of it which was in communication with Cadiz, it appeared to
be received with enthusiasm. The Liberals, who had triumphed over their opponents in
the debates in the Assembly, believed that their own victory was the victory of the
Spanish people over the forces of despotism. But before the first rejoicings were over,
ominous signs appeared of the strength of the opposite party, and of the incapacity of
the Liberals themselves to form any effective Government. The fanaticism of the clergy
was excited by a law partly ratifying the suppression of monasteries begun by Joseph
Bonaparte; the enactments of the Cortes regarding the censorship of religious writings
threw the Church into open revolt. In declaring the freedom of the Press, the Cortes had
expressly guarded themselves against extending this freedom to religious discussion;
the clergy now demanded the restoration of the powers of the Inquisition, which had
been in abeyance since the beginning of the war. The Cortes were willing to grant to
the Bishops the right of condemning any writing as heretical, and they were willing to
enforce by means of the ordinary tribunals the law which declared the Catholic religion
to be the only one permitted in Spain; but they declined to restore the jurisdiction of the
Holy Office (Feb., 1813). Without this engine for the suppression of all mental
independence the priesthood of Spain conceived its cause to be lost. The anathema of
the Church went out against the new order. Uniting with the partisans of absolutism,
whom Wellington, provoked by the extravagances of the Liberals, now took under his
protection, the clergy excited an ignorant people against its own emancipators, and
awaited the time when the return of Ferdinand, and a combination of all the interests
hostile to reform, should overthrow the Constitution which the Liberals fondly
imagined to have given freedom to Spain.
CHAPTER X.
[Hardenberg's Ministry.]
War between France and Russia was known to be imminent as early as the spring of
1811. The approach of the conflict was watched with the deepest anxiety by the two
States of central Europe which still retained some degree of independence. The
Governments of Berlin and Vienna had been drawn together by misfortune. The same
ultimate deliverance formed the secret hope of both; but their danger was too great to
permit them to combine in open resistance to Napoleon's will. In spite of a tacit
understanding between the two powers, each was compelled for the present to accept
the conditions necessary to secure its own existence. The situation of Prussia in
especial was one of the utmost danger. Its territory lay directly between the French
Empire and Russia; its fortresses were in the hands of Napoleon, its resources were
certain to be seized by one or other of the hostile armies. Neutrality was impossible,
however much desired by Prussia itself; and the only question to be decided by the
Government was whether Prussia should enter the war as the ally of France or of
Russia. Had the party of Stein been in power, Prussia would have taken arms against
Napoleon at every risk. Stein, however, was in exile his friends, though strong in the
army, were not masters of the Government; the foreign policy of the country was
directed by a statesman who trusted more to time and prudent management than to
desperate resolves. Hardenberg had been recalled to office in 1810, and permitted to
resume the great measures of civil reform which had been broken off two years before.
The machinery of Government was reconstructed upon principles that had been laid
down by Stein; agrarian reform was carried still farther by the abolition of peasant's
service, and the partition of peasant's land between the occupant and his lord; an
experiment, though a very ill-managed one, was made in the forms of constitutional
Government by the convocation of three successive assemblies of the Notables. On the
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part of the privileged orders Hardenberg encountered the most bitter opposition; his
own love of absolute power prevented him from winning popular confidence by any
real approach towards a Representative System. Nor was the foreign policy of the
Minister of a character to excite enthusiasm. A true patriot at heart, he seemed at times
to be destitute of patriotism, when he was in fact only destitute of the power to reveal
his real motives.
Convinced that Prussia could not remain neutral in the coming war, and believing some
relief from its present burdens to be absolutely necessary, Hardenberg determined in
the first instance to offer Prussia's support to Napoleon, demanding in return for it a
reduction of the payments still due to France, and the removal of the limits imposed
upon the Prussian army. [169] The offer of the Prussian alliance reached Napoleon in
the spring of 1811: he maintained an obstinate silence. While the Prussian envoy at
Paris vainly waited for an audience, masses of troops advanced from the Rhine towards
the Prussian frontier, and the French garrisons on the Oder were raised far beyond their
stipulated strength. In July the envoy returned from Paris, announcing that Napoleon
declined even to enter upon a discussion of the terms proposed by Hardenberg. King
Frederick William now wrote to the Czar, proposing an alliance between Prussia and
Russia. It was not long before the report of Hardenberg's military preparations reached
Paris. Napoleon announced that if they were not immediately suspended he should
order Davoust to march on Berlin; and he presented a counter-proposition for a
Prussian alliance, which was in fact one of unqualified submission. The Government
had to decide between accepting a treaty which placed Prussia among Napoleon's
vassals, or certain war. Hardenberg, expecting favourable news from St. Petersburg,
pronounced in favour of war; but the Czar, though anxious for the support of Prussia,
had determined on a defensive plan of operations, and declared that he could send no
troops beyond the Russian frontier.
Prussia was thus left to face Napoleon alone. Hardenberg shrank from the
responsibility of proclaiming a war for life or death, and a treaty was signed which
added the people of Frederick the Great to that inglorious crowd which fought at
Napoleon's orders against whatever remained of independence and nationality in
Europe. [170] (Feb. 24th, 1812.) Prussia undertook to supply Napoleon with 20,000
men for the impending campaign, and to raise no levies and to give no orders to its
troops without Napoleon's consent. Such was the bitter termination of all those patriotic
hopes and efforts which had carried Prussia through its darkest days. Hardenberg
himself might make a merit of bending before the storm, and of preserving for Prussia
the means of striking when the time should come; but the simpler instincts of the
patriotic party felt his submission to be the very surrender of national existence. Stein
in his exile denounced the Minister with unsparing bitterness. Scharnhorst resigned his
post; many of the best officers in the Prussian army quitted the service of King
Frederick William in order to join the Russians in the last struggle for European liberty.
The alliance which Napoleon pressed upon Austria was not of the same humiliating
character as that which Prussia was forced to accept. Both Metternich and the Emperor
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Francis would have preferred to remain neutral, for the country was suffering from a
fearful State-bankruptcy, and the Government had been compelled to reduce its paper
money, in which all debts and salaries were payable, to a fifth of its nominal value.
Napoleon, however, insisted on Austria's co-operation. The family-relations of the two
Emperors pointed to a close alliance, and the reward which Napoleon held out to
Austria, the restoration of the Illyrian provinces, was one of the utmost value. Nor was
the Austrian contingent to be treated, like the Prussian, as a mere French army-corps.
Its operations were to be separate from those of the French, and its command was to be
held by an Austrian general, subordinate only to Napoleon himself. On these terms
Metternich was not unwilling to enter the campaign. He satisfied his scruples by
inventing a strange diplomatic form in which Austria was still described as a neutral,
although she took part in the war, [171] and felt as little compunction in uniting with
France as in explaining to the Courts of St. Petersburg and Berlin that the union was a
hypocritical one. The Sovereign who was about to be attacked by Napoleon, and the
Sovereigns who sent their troops to Napoleon's support, perfectly well understood one
another's position. The Prussian corps, watched and outnumbered by the French, might
have to fight the Russians because they could not help it; the Austrians, directed by
their own commander, would do no serious harm to the Russians so long as the
Russians did no harm to them. Should the Czar succeed in giving a good account of his
adversary, he would have no difficulty in coming to a settlement with his adversary's
forced allies.
The Treaties which gave to Napoleon the hollow support of Austria and Prussia were
signed early in the year 1812. During the next three months all Northern Germany was
covered with enormous masses of troops and waggon-trains, on their way from the
Rhine to the Vistula. No expedition had ever been organised on anything approaching
to the scale of the invasion of Russia. In all the wars of the French since 1793 the
enemy's country had furnished their armies with supplies, and the generals had trusted
to their own exertions for everything but guns and ammunition. Such a method could
not, however, be followed in an invasion of Russia. The country beyond the Niemen
was no well-stocked garden, like Lombardy or Bavaria. Provisions for a mass of
450,000 men, with all the means of transport for carrying them far into Russia, had to
be collected at Dantzig and the fortresses of the Vistula. No mercy was shown to the
unfortunate countries whose position now made them Napoleon's harvest-field and
storehouse. Prussia was forced to supplement its military assistance with colossal
grants of supplies. The whole of Napoleon's troops upon the march through Germany
lived at the expense of the towns and villages through which they passed; in
Westphalia such was the ruin caused by military requisitions that King Jerome wrote to
Napoleon, warning him to fear the despair of men who had nothing more to lose. [172]
At length the vast stores were collected, and the invading army reached the Vistula.
Napoleon himself quitted Paris on the 9th of May, and received the homage of the
Austrian and Prussian Sovereigns at Dresden. The eastward movement of the army
continued. The Polish and East Prussian districts which had been the scene of the
combats of 1807 were again traversed by French columns. On the 23rd of June the
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order was given to cross the Niemen and enter Russian territory. Out of 600,000 troops
whom Napoleon had organised for this campaign, 450,000 were actually upon the
frontier. Of these, 380,000 formed the central army, under Napoleon's own command,
at Kowno, on the Niemen; to the north, at Tilsit, there was formed a corps of 32,000,
which included the contingent furnished by Prussia; the Austrians, under
Schwarzenburg, with a small French division, lay to the south, on the borders of
Galicia. Against the main army of Napoleon, the real invading force, the Russians
could only bring up 150,000 men. These were formed into the First and Second Armies
of the West. The First, or Northern Army, with which the Czar himself was present,
numbered about 100,000, under the command of Barclay de Tolly; the Second Army,
half that strength, was led by Prince Bagration. In Southern Poland and on the Lower
Niemen the French auxiliary corps were faced by weak divisions. In all, the Russians
had only 220,000 men to oppose to more than double that number of the enemy. The
principal reinforcements which they had to expect were from the armies hitherto
engaged with the Turks upon the Danube. Alexander found it necessary to make peace
with the Porte at the cost of a part of the spoils of Tilsit. The Danubian provinces, with
the exception of Bessarabia, were restored to the Sultan, in order that Russia might
withdraw its forces from the south. Bernadotte, Crown Prince of Sweden, who was
threatened with the loss of his own dominions in the event of Napoleon's victory,
concluded an alliance with the Czar. In return for the co-operation of a Swedish army,
Alexander undertook, with an indifference to national right worthy of Napoleon
himself, to wrest Norway from Denmark, and to annex it to the Swedish crown.
The head-quarters of the Russian army were at Wilna when Napoleon crossed the
Niemen. It was unknown whether the French intended to advance upon Moscow or
upon St. Petersburg; nor had any systematic plan of the campaign been adopted by the
Czar. The idea of falling back before the enemy was indeed familiar in Russia since the
war between Peter the Great and Charles XII. of Sweden, and there was no want of
good counsel in favour of a defensive warfare; [173] but neither the Czar nor any one of
his generals understood the simple theory of a retreat in which no battles at all should
be fought. The most that was understood by a defensive system was the occupation of
an entrenched position for battle, and a retreat to a second line of entrenchments before
the engagement was repeated. The actual course of the campaign was no result of a
profound design; it resulted from the disagreements of the general's plans, and the
frustration of them all. It was intended in the first instance to fight a battle at Drissa, on
the river Dwina. In this position, which was supposed to cover the roads both to
Moscow and St. Petersburg, a great entrenched camp had been formed, and here the
Russian army was to make its first stand against Napoleon. Accordingly, as soon as the
French crossed the Niemen, both Barclay and Bagration were ordered by the Czar to
fall back upon Drissa. But the movements of the French army were too rapid for the
Russian commanders to effect their junction. Bagration, who lay at some distance to
the south, was cut off from his colleague, and forced to retreat along the eastern road
towards Witepsk. Barclay reached Drissa in safety, but he knew himself to be unable to
hold it alone against 300,000 men. He evacuated the lines without waiting for the
approach of the French, and fell back in the direction taken by the second army. The
first movement of defence had thus failed, and the Czar now quitted the camp, leaving
to Barclay the command of the whole Russian forces.
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[Collapse of the French transport.]
Napoleon entered Wilna, the capital of Russian Poland, on the 28th of June. The last
Russian detachments had only left it a few hours before; but the French were in no
condition for immediate pursuit. Before the army reached the Niemen the unparalleled
difficulties of the campaign had become only too clear. The vast waggon-trains broke
down on the highways. The stores were abundant, but the animals which had to
transport them died of exhaustion. No human genius, no perfection of foresight and
care, could have achieved the enormous task which Napoleon had undertaken. In spite
of a year's preparations the French suffered from hunger and thirst from the moment
that they set foot on Russian soil. Thirty thousand stragglers had left the army before it
reached Wilna; twenty-five thousand sick were in the hospitals; the transports were at
an unknown distance in the rear. At the end of six days' march from the Niemen,
Napoleon found himself compelled to halt for nearly three weeks. The army did not
leave Wilna till the 16th of July, when Barclay had already evacuated the camp at
Drissa. When at length a march became possible, Napoleon moved upon the Upper
Dwina, hoping to intercept Barclay upon the road to Witepsk; but difficulties of
transport again brought him to a halt, and the Russian commander reached Witepsk
before his adversary. Here Barclay drew up for battle, supposing Bagration's army to be
but a short distance to the south. In the course of the night intelligence arrived that
Bagration's army was nowhere near the rallying-point, but had been driven back
towards Smolensko. Barclay immediately gave up the thought of fighting a battle, and
took the road to Smolensko himself, leaving his watch-fires burning. His movement
was unperceived by the French; the retreat was made in good order; and the two
severed Russian armies at length effected their junction at a point three hundred miles
distant from the frontier.
Napoleon, disappointed of battle, entered Witepsk on the evening after the Russians
had abandoned it (July 28). Barclay's escape was, for the French, a disaster of the first
magnitude, since it extinguished all hope of crushing the larger of the two Russian
armies by overwhelming numbers in one great and decisive engagement. The march of
the French during the last twelve days showed at what cost every further step must be
made. Since quitting Wilna the 50,000 sick and stragglers had risen to 100,000. Fever
and disease struck down whole regiments. The provisioning of the army was beyond all
human power. Of the 200,000 men who still remained, it might almost be calculated in
how many weeks the last would perish. So fearful was the prospect that Napoleon
himself thought of abandoning any further advance until the next year, and of
permitting the army to enter into winter-quarters upon the Dwina. But the conviction
that all Russian resistance would end with the capture of Moscow hurried him on. The
army left Witepsk on the 13th of August, and followed the Russians to Smolensko.
Here the entire Russian army clamoured for battle. Barclay stood alone in perceiving
the necessity for retreat. The generals caballed against him; the soldiers were on the
point of mutiny; the Czar himself wrote to express his impatience for an attack upon
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the French. Barclay nevertheless persisted in his resolution to abandon Smolensko. He
so far yielded to the army as to permit the rearguard to engage in a bloody struggle with
the French when they assaulted the town; but the evacuation was completed under
cover of night; and when the French made their entrance into Smolensko on the next
morning they found it deserted and in rums. The surrender of Smolensko was the last
sacrifice that Barclay could extort from Russian pride. He no longer opposed the
universal cry for battle, and the retreat was continued only with the intention of halting
at the first strong position. Barclay himself was surveying a battleground when he
heard that the command had been taken out of his hands. The Czar had been forced by
national indignation at the loss of Smolensko to remove this able soldier, who was a
Livonian by birth, and to transfer the command to Kutusotff, a thorough Russian,
whom a life-time spent in victories over the Turk had made, in spite of his defeat at
Austerlitz, the idol of the nation.
When Kutusoff reached the camp, the prolonged miseries of the French advance had
already reduced the invaders to the number of the army opposed to them. As far as
Smolensko the French had at least not suffered from the hostility of the population,
who were Poles, not Russians; but on reaching Smolensko they entered a country
where every peasant was a fanatical enemy. The villages were burnt down by their
inhabitants, the corn destroyed, and the cattle driven into the woods. Every day's march
onward from Smolensko cost the French three thousand men. On reaching the river
Moskwa in the first week of September, a hundred and seventy-five thousand out of
Napoleon's three hundred and eighty thousand soldiers were in the hospitals, or
missing, or dead. About sixty thousand guarded the line of march. The Russians, on the
other hand, had received reinforcements which covered their losses at Smolensko; and
although detachments had been sent to support the army of Riga, Kutusoff was still
able to place over one hundred thousand men in the field.
On the 5th of September the Russian army drew up for battle at Borodino, on the
Moskwa, seventy miles west of the capital. At early morning on the 7th the French
advanced to the attack. The battle was, in proportion to its numbers, the most
sanguinary of modern times. Forty thousand French, thirty thousand Russians were
struck down. At the close of the day the French were in possession of the enemy's
ground, but the Russians, unbroken in their order, had only retreated to a second line of
defence. Both sides claimed the victory; neither had won it. It was no catastrophe such
as Napoleon required for the decision of the war, it was no triumph sufficient to save
Russia from the necessity of abandoning its capital. Kutusoff had sustained too heavy a
loss to face the French beneath the walls of Moscow. Peace was no nearer for the
70,000 men who had been killed or wounded in the fight. The French steadily
advanced; the Russians retreated to Moscow, and evacuated the capital when their
generals decided that they could not encounter the French assault. The Holy City was
left undefended before the invader. But the departure of the army was the smallest part
of the evacuation. The inhabitants, partly of their own free will, partly under the
compulsion of the Governor, abandoned the city in a mass. No gloomy or excited
crowd, as at Vienna and Berlin, thronged the streets to witness the entrance of the great
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conqueror, when on the 14th of September Napoleon took possession of Moscow. His
troops marched through silent and deserted streets. In the solitude of the Kremlin
Napoleon received the homage of a few foreigners, who alone could be collected by his
servants to tender to him the submission of the city.
[Moscow fired.]
But the worst was yet to come. On the night after Napoleon's entry, fires broke out in
different parts of Moscow. They were ascribed at first to accident; but when on the next
day the French saw the flames gaining ground in every direction, and found that all the
means for extinguishing fire had been removed from the city, they understood the
doom to which Moscow had been devoted by its own defenders. Count Rostopchin, the
governor, had determined on the destruction of Moscow without the knowledge of the
Czar. The doors of the prisons were thrown open. Rostopchin gave the signal by setting
fire to his own palace, and let loose his bands of incendiaries over the city. For five
days the flames rose and fell; and when, on the evening of the 20th, the last fires
ceased, three-fourths of Moscow lay in ruins.
Such was the prize for which Napoleon had sacrificed 200,000 men, and engulfed the
weak remnant of his army six hundred miles deep in an enemy's country. Throughout
all the terrors of the advance Napoleon had held fast to the belief that Alexander's
resistance would end with the fall of his capital. The events that accompanied the entry
of the French into Moscow shook his confidence; yet even now Napoleon could not
believe that the Czar remained firm against all thoughts of peace. His experience in all
earlier wars had given him confidence in the power of one conspicuous disaster to
unhinge the resolution of kings. His trust in the deepening impression made by the fall
of Moscow was fostered by negotiations begun by Kutusoff for the very purpose of
delaying the French retreat. For five weeks Napoleon remained at Moscow as if
spell-bound, unable to convince himself of his powerlessness to break Alexander's
determination, unable to face a retreat which would display to all Europe the failure of
his arms and the termination of his career of victory. At length the approach of winter
forced him to action. It was impossible to provision the army at Moscow during the
winter months, even if there had been nothing to fear from the enemy. Even the
mocking overtures of Kutusoff had ceased. The frightful reality could no longer be
concealed. On the 19th of October the order for retreat was given. It was not the
destruction of Moscow, but the departure of its inhabitants, that had brought the
conqueror to ruin. Above two thousand houses were still standing; but whether the
buildings remained or perished made little difference; the whole value of the capital to
Napoleon was lost when the inhabitants, whom he could have forced to procure
supplies for his army, disappeared. Vienna and Berlin had been of such incalculable
service to Napoleon because the whole native administration placed itself under his
orders, and every rich and important citizen became a hostage for the activity of the
rest. When the French gained Moscow, they gained nothing beyond the supplies which
were at that moment in the city. All was lost to Napoleon when the class who in other
capitals had been his instruments fled at his approach. The conflagration of Moscow
acted upon all Europe as a signal of inextinguishable national hatred; as a military
operation, it neither accelerated the retreat of Napoleon nor added to the miseries which
his army had to undergo.
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[Napoleon leaves Moscow, Oct. 19.]
The French forces which quitted Moscow in October numbered about 100,000 men.
Reinforcements had come in during the occupation of the city, and the health of the
soldiers had been in some degree restored by a month's rest. Everything now depended
upon gaining a line of retreat where food could be found. Though but a fourth part of
the army which entered Russia in the summer, the army which left Moscow was still
large enough to protect itself against the enemy, if allowed to retreat through a fresh
country; if forced back upon the devastated line of its advance it was impossible for it
to escape destruction. Napoleon therefore determined to make for Kaluga, on the south
of Moscow, and to endeavour to gain a road to Smolensko far distant from that by
which he had come. The army moved from Moscow in a southern direction. But its
route had been foreseen by Kutusoff. At the end of four days' march it was met by a
Russian corps at Jaroslavitz. A bloody struggle left the French in possession of the
road: they continued their advance; but it was only to find that Kutusoff, with his full
strength, had occupied a line of heights farther south, and barred the way to Kaluga.
The effort of an assault was beyond the powers of the French. Napoleon surveyed the
enemy's position, and recognised the fatal necessity of abandoning the march
southwards and returning to the wasted road by which he had advanced. The meaning
of the backward movement was quickly understood by the army. From the moment of
quitting Jaroslavitz, disorder and despair increased with every march. Thirty thousand
men were lost upon the road before a pursuer appeared in sight. When, on the 2nd of
November, the army reached Wiazma, it numbered no more than 65,000 men.
Kutusoff was unadventurous in pursuit. The necessity of moving his army along a
parallel road south of the French, in order to avoid starvation, diminished the
opportunities for attack; but the general himself disliked risking his forces, and
preferred to see the enemy's destruction effected by the elements. At Wiazma, where,
on the 3rd of November, the French were for the first time attacked in force, Kutusoff's
own delay alone saved them from total ruin. In spite of heavy loss the French kept
possession of the road, and secured their retreat to Smolensko, where stores of food had
been accumulated, and where other and less exhausted French troops were at hand.
Up to the 6th of November the weather had been sunny and dry. On the 6th the
long-delayed terrors of Russian winter broke upon the pursuers and the pursued. Snow
darkened the air and hid the last traces of vegetation from the starving cavalry trains.
The temperature sank at times to forty degrees of frost. Death came, sometimes in the
unfelt release from misery, sometimes in horrible forms of mutilation and disease. Both
armies were exposed to the same sufferings; but the Russians had at least such succour
as their countrymen could give; where the French sank, they died. The order of war
disappeared under conditions which made life itself the accident of a meal or of a place
by the camp-fire. Though most of the French soldiery continued to carry their arms, the
Guard alone kept its separate formation; the other regiments marched in confused
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masses. From the 9th to the 13th of November these starving bands arrived one after
another at Smolensko, expecting that here their sufferings would end. But the
organisation for distributing the stores accumulated in Smolensko no longer existed.
The perishing crowds were left to find shelter where they could; sacks of corn were
thrown to them for food.
[Russian armies from north and south attempt to cut off French retreat.]
It was impossible for Napoleon to give his wearied soldiers rest, for new Russian
armies were advancing from the north and the south to cut off their retreat. From the
Danube and from the Baltic Sea troops were pressing forward to their meeting-point
upon the rear of the invader. Witgenstein, moving southwards at the head of the army
of the Dwina, had overpowered the French corps stationed upon that river, and made
himself master of Witepsk. The army of Bucharest, which had been toiling northwards
ever since the beginning of August, had advanced to within a few days' march of its
meeting-point with the army of the Dwina upon the line of Napoleon's
communications. Before Napoleon reached Smolensko he sent orders to Victor, who
was at Smolensko with some reserves, to march against Witgenstein and drive him
back upon the Dwina. Victor set out on his mission. During the short halt of Napoleon
in Smolensko, Kutusoff pushed forward to the west of the French, and took post at
Krasnoi, thirty miles farther along the road by which Napoleon had to pass. The retreat
of the French seemed to be actually cut off. Had the Russian general dared to face
Napoleon and his Guards, he might have held the French in check until the arrival of
the two auxiliary armies from the north and south enabled him to capture Napoleon and
his entire force. Kutusoff, however, preferred a partial and certain victory to a struggle
with Napoleon for life or death. He permitted Napoleon and the Guard to pass by
unattacked, and then fell upon the hinder divisions of the French army. (Nov. 17.)
These unfortunate troops were successively cut to pieces. Twenty-six thousand were
made prisoners. Ney, with a part of the rear-guard, only escaped by crossing the
Dnieper on the ice. Of the army that had quitted Moscow there now remained but
10,000 combatants and 20,000 followers. Kutusoff himself was brought to such a state
of exhaustion that he could carry the pursuit no further, and entered into quarters upon
the Dnieper.
It was a few days after the battle at Krasnoi that the divisions of Victor, coming from
the direction of the Dwina, suddenly encountered the remnant of Napoleon's army.
Though aware that Napoleon was in retreat, they knew nothing of the calamities that
had befallen him, and were struck with amazement when, in the middle of a forest, they
met with what seemed more like a miserable troop of captives than an army upon the
march. Victor's soldiers of a mere auxiliary corps found themselves more than double
the effective strength of the whole army of Moscow. Their arrival again placed
Napoleon at the head of 30,000 disciplined troops, and gave the French a gleam of
victory in the last and seemingly most hopeless struggle in the campaign. Admiral
Tchitchagoff, in command of the army marching from the Danube, had at length
reached the line of Napoleon's retreat, and established himself at Borisov, where the
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road through Poland crosses the river Beresina. The bridge was destroyed by the
Russians, and Tchitchagoff opened communication with Witgenstein's army, which lay
only a few miles to the north. It appeared as if the retreat of the French was now finally
intercepted, and the surrender of Napoleon inevitable. Yet even in this hopeless
situation the military skill and daring of the French worked with something of its
ancient power. The army reached the Beresina; Napoleon succeeded in withdrawing the
enemy from the real point of passage; bridges were thrown across the river, and after
desperate fighting a great part of the army made good its footing upon the western bank
(Nov. 28). But the losses even among the effective troops were enormous. The fate of
the miserable crowd that followed them, torn by the cannon-fire of the Russians, and
precipitated into the river by the breaking of one of the bridges, has made the passage
of the Beresina a synonym for the utmost degree of human woe.
This was the last engagement fought by the army. The Guards still preserved their
order: Marshal Ney still found soldiers capable of turning upon the pursuer with his
own steady and unflagging courage; but the bulk of the army struggled forward in
confused crowds, harassed by the Cossacks, and laying down their arms by thousands
before the enemy. The frost, which had broken up on the 19th, returned on the 30th of
November with even greater severity. Twenty thousand fresh troops which joined the
army between the Beresina and Wilna scarcely arrested the process of dissolution. On
the 3rd of December Napoleon quitted the army. Wilna itself was abandoned with all
its stores; and when at length the fugitives reached the Niemen, they numbered little
more than twenty thousand. Here, six months earlier, three hundred and eighty
thousand men had crossed with Napoleon. A hundred thousand more had joined the
army in the course of its retreat. Of all this host, not the twentieth part reached the
Prussian frontier. A hundred and seventy thousand remained prisoners in the hands of
the Russians; a greater number had perished. Of the twenty thousand men who now
beheld the Niemen, probably not seven thousand had crossed with Napoleon. In the
presence of a catastrophe so overwhelming and so unparalleled the Russian generals
might well be content with their own share in the work of destruction. Yet the event
proved that Kutusoff had done ill in sparing the extremest effort to capture or annihilate
his foe. Not only was Napoleon's own escape the pledge of continued war, but the
remnant that escaped with him possessed a military value out of all proportion to its
insignificant numbers. The best of the army were the last to succumb. Out of those few
thousands who endured to the end, a very large proportion were veteran officers, who
immediately took their place at the head of Napoleon's newly-raised armies, and gave
to them a military efficiency soon to be bitterly proved by Europe on many a German
battle-field.
Four hundred thousand men were lost to a conqueror who could still stake the lives of
half a million more. The material power of Napoleon, though largely, was not fatally
diminished by the Russian campaign; it was through its moral effect, first proved in the
action of Prussia, that the retreat from Moscow created a new order of things in Europe.
The Prussian contingent, commanded by General von York, lay in front of Riga, where
it formed part of the French subsidiary army-corps led by Marshal Macdonald. Early in
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November the Russian governor of Riga addressed himself to York, assuring him that
Napoleon was ruined, and soliciting York himself to take up arms against Macdonald.
[174] York had no evidence, beyond the word of the Russian commander, of the extent
of Napoleon's losses; and even if the facts were as stated, it was by no means clear that
the Czar might not be inclined to take vengeance on Prussia on account of its alliance
with Napoleon. York returned a guarded answer to the Russian, and sent an officer to
Wilna to ascertain the real state of the French army. On the 8th of December the officer
returned, and described what he had himself seen. Soon afterwards the Russian
commandant produced a letter from the Czar, declaring his intention to deal with
Prussia as a friend, not as an enemy. On these points all doubt was removed; York's
decision was thrown upon himself. York was a rigid soldier of the old Prussian type,
dominated by the idea of military duty. The act to which the Russian commander
invited him, and which the younger officers were ready to hail as the liberation of
Prussia, might be branded by his sovereign as desertion and treason. Whatever scruples
and perplexity might be felt in such a situation by a loyal and obedient soldier were felt
by York. He nevertheless chose the course which seemed to be for his country's good;
and having chosen it, he accepted all the consequences which it involved. On the 30th
of December a convention was signed at Tauroggen, which, under the guise of a truce,
practically withdrew the Prussian army from Napoleon, and gave the Russians
possession of Königsberg. The momentous character of the act was recognised by
Napoleon as soon as the news reached Paris. York's force was the strongest military
body upon the Russian frontier; united with Macdonald, it would have forced the
Russian pursuit to stop at the Niemen; abandoning Napoleon, it brought his enemies on
to the Vistula, and threatened incalculable danger by its example to all the rest of
Germany. For the moment, however, Napoleon could count upon the spiritless
obedience of King Frederick William. In the midst of the French regiments that
garrisoned Berlin, the King wrote orders pronouncing York's convention null and void,
and ordering York himself to be tried by court-martial. The news reached the loyal
soldier: he received it with grief, but maintained his resolution to act for his country's
good. "With bleeding heart," he wrote, "I burst the bond of obedience, and carry on the
war upon my own responsibility. The army desires war with France; the nation desires
it; the King himself desires it, but his will is not free. The army must make his will
free."
York's act was nothing less than the turning-point in Prussian history. Another
Prussian, at this great crisis of Europe, played as great, though not so conspicuous, a
part. Before the outbreak of the Russian war, the Czar had requested the exile Stein to
come to St. Petersburg to aid him with his counsels during the struggle with Napoleon.
Stein gladly accepted the call; and throughout the campaign he encouraged the Czar in
the resolute resistance which the Russian nation itself required of its Government. So
long as French soldiers remained on Russian soil, there was indeed little need for a
foreigner to stimulate the Czar's energies; but when the pursuit had gloriously ended on
the Niemen, the case became very different. Kutusoff and the generals were disinclined
to carry the war into Germany. The Russian army had itself lost three-fourths of its
numbers; Russian honour was satisfied; the liberation of Western Europe might be left
to Western Europe itself. Among the politicians who surrounded Alexander, there were
a considerable number, including the first minister Romanzoff, who still believed in the
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good policy of a French alliance. These were the influences with which Stein had to
contend, when the question arose whether Russia should rest satisfied with its own
victories, or summon all Europe to unite in overthrowing Napoleon's tyranny. No
record remains of the stages by which Alexander's mind rose to the clear and firm
conception of a single European interest against Napoleon; indications exist that it was
Stein's personal influence which most largely affected his decision. Even in the darkest
moments of the war, when the forces of Russia seemed wholly incapable of checking
Napoleon's advance, Stein had never abandoned his scheme for raising the German
nation against Napoleon. The confidence with which he had assured Alexander of
ultimate victory over the invader had been thoroughly justified; the triumph which he
had predicted had come with a rapidity and completeness even surpassing his hopes.
For a moment Alexander identified himself with the statesman who, in the midst of
Germany's humiliation, had been so resolute, so far-sighted, so aspiring. [175] The
minister of the peace-party was dismissed: Alexander ordered his troops to advance
into Prussia, and charged Stein himself to assume the government of the Prussian
districts occupied by Russian armies. Stein's mission was to arm the Landwehr, and to
gather all the resources of the country for war against France; his powers were to
continue until some definite arrangement should be made between the King of Prussia
and the Czar.
Armed with this commission from a foreign sovereign, Stein appeared at Königsberg
on the 22nd of January, 1813, and published an order requiring the governor of the
province of East Prussia to convoke an assembly for the purpose of arming the people.
Stein would have desired York to appear as President of the Assembly; but York, like
most of the Prussian officials, was alarmed and indignant at Stein's assumption of
power in Prussia as the representative of the Russian Czar, and hesitated to connect
himself with so revolutionary a measure as the arming of the people. It was only upon
condition that Stein himself should not appear in the Assembly that York consented to
recognise its powers. The Assembly met. York entered the house, and spoke a few
soul-stirring words. His undisguised declaration of war with France was received with
enthusiastic cheers. A plan for the formation of a Landwehr, based on Scharnhorst's
plans of 1808, was laid before the Assembly, and accepted. Forty thousand men were
called to arms in a province which included nothing west of the Vistula. The nation
itself had begun the war, and left its Government no choice but to follow. Stein's task
was fulfilled; and he retired to the quarters of Alexander, unwilling to mar by the
appearance of foreign intervention the work to which the Prussian nation had now
committed itself beyond power of recall. It was the fortune of the Prussian State, while
its King dissembled before the French in Berlin, to possess a soldier brave enough to
emancipate its army, and a citizen bold enough to usurp the government of its
provinces. Frederick William forgave York his intrepidity; Stein's action was never
forgiven by the timid and jealous sovereign whose subjects he had summoned to arm
themselves for their country's deliverance.
[Policy of Hardenberg.]
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The Government of Berlin, which since the beginning of the Revolutionary War had
neither been able to fight, nor to deceive, nor to be honest, was at length forced by
circumstances into a certain effectiveness in all three forms of action. In the interval
between the first tidings of Napoleon's disasters and the announcement of York's
convention with the Russians, Hardenberg had been assuring Napoleon of his devotion,
and collecting troops which he carefully prevented from joining him. [176] The desire
of the King was to gain concessions without taking part in the war either against
Napoleon or on his side. When, however, the balance turned more decidedly against
Napoleon, he grew bolder; and the news of York's defection, though it seriously
embarrassed the Cabinet for the moment, practically decided it in favour of war with
France. The messenger who was sent to remove York from his command received
private instructions to fall into the hands of the Russians, and to inform the Czar that, if
his troops advanced as far as the Oder, King Frederick William would be ready to
conclude an alliance. Every post that arrived from East Prussia strengthened the
warlike resolutions of the Government. At length the King ventured on the decisive
step of quitting Berlin and placing himself at Breslau (Jan. 25). At Berlin he was in the
power of the French; at Breslau he was within easy reach of Alexander. The
significance of the journey could not be mistaken: it was immediately followed by open
preparation for war with France. On February 3rd there appeared an edict inviting
volunteers to enrol themselves: a week later all exemptions from military service were
abolished, and the entire male population of Prussia between the ages of seventeen and
twenty-four was declared liable to serve. General Knesebeck was sent to the
headquarters of the Czar, which were now between Warsaw and Kalisch, to conclude a
treaty of alliance. Knesebeck demanded securities for the restoration to Prussia of all
the Polish territory which it had possessed before 1806; the Czar, unwilling either to
grant this condition or to lose the Prussian alliance, kept Knesebeck at his quarters, and
sent Stein with a Russian plenipotentiary to Breslau to conclude the treaty with
Hardenberg himself. Stein and Hardenberg met at Breslau on the 26th of February.
Hardenberg accepted the Czar's terms, and the treaty, known as the Treaty of Kalisch,
[177] was signed on the following day. By this treaty, without guaranteeing the
restoration of Prussian Poland, Russia undertook not to lay down its arms until the
Prussian State as a whole was restored to the area and strength which it had possessed
before 1806. For this purpose annexations were promised in Northern Germany. With
regard to Poland, Russia promised no more than to permit Prussia to retain what it had
received in 1772, together with a strip of territory to connect this district with Silesia.
The meaning of the agreement was that Prussia should abandon to Russia the greater
part of its late Polish provinces, and receive an equivalent German territory in its stead.
The Treaty of Kalisch virtually surrendered to the Czar all that Prussia had gained in
the partitions of Poland made in 1793 and in 1795. The sacrifice was deemed a most
severe one by every Prussian politician, and was accepted only as a less evil than the
loss of Russia's friendship, and a renewed submission to Napoleon. No single
statesman, not even Stein himself, appears to have understood that in exchanging its
Polish conquests for German annexations, in turning to the German west instead of to
the alien Slavonic east, Prussia was in fact taking the very step which made it the
possible head of a future united Germany.
War was still undeclared upon Napoleon by King Frederick William, but throughout
the month of February the light cavalry of the Russians pushed forward unhindered
through Prussian territory towards the Oder, and crowds of volunteers, marching
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through Berlin on their way to the camps in Silesia, gave the French clear signs of the
storm that was about to burst upon them.[178] The remnant of Napoleon's army, now
commanded by Eugene Beauharnais, had fallen back step by step to the Oder. Here,
resting on the fortresses, it might probably have checked the Russian advance; but the
heart of Eugene failed; the line of the Oder was abandoned, and the retreat continued to
Berlin and the Elbe. The Cossacks followed. On the 20th of February they actually
entered Berlin and fought with the French in the streets. The French garrison was far
superior in force; but the appearance of the Cossacks caused such a ferment that,
although the alliance between France and Prussia was still in nominal existence, the
French troops expected to be cut to pieces by the people. For some days they continued
to bivouac in the streets, and as soon as it became known that a regular Russian force
had reached the Oder, Eugene determined to evacuate Berlin. On the 4th of March the
last French soldier quitted the Prussian capital. The Cossacks rode through the town as
the French left it, and fought with their rear-guard. Some days later Witgenstein
appeared with Russian infantry. On March 17th York made his triumphal entry at the
head of his corps, himself cold and rigid in the midst of tumultuous outbursts of
patriotic joy.
It was on this same day that King Frederick William issued his proclamation to the
Prussian people, declaring that war had begun with France, and summoning the nation
to enter upon the struggle as one that must end either in victory or in total destruction.
The proclamation was such as became a monarch conscious that his own
faint-heartedness had been the principal cause of Prussia's humiliation. It was simple
and unboastful, admitting that the King had made every effort to preserve the French
alliance, and ascribing the necessity for war to the intolerable wrongs inflicted by
Napoleon in spite of Prussia's fulfilment of its treaty-obligations. The appeal to the
great memories of Prussia's earlier sovereigns, and to the example of Russia, Spain, and
all countries which in present or in earlier times had fought for their independence
against a stronger foe, was worthy of the truthful and modest tone in which the King
spoke of the misfortunes of Prussia under his own rule.
But no exhortations were necessary to fire the spirit of the Prussian people. Seven years
of suffering and humiliation had done their work. The old apathy of all classes had
vanished under the pressure of a bitter sense of wrong. If among the Court party of
Berlin and the Conservative landowners there existed a secret dread of the awakening
of popular forces, the suspicion could not be now avowed. A movement as penetrating
and as universal as that which France had experienced in 1792 swept through the
Prussian State. It had required the experience of years of wretchedness, the intrusion of
the French soldier upon the peace of the family, the sight of the homestead swept bare
of its stock to supply the invaders of Russia, the memory of Schill's companions shot in
cold blood for the cause of the Fatherland, before the Prussian nation caught that flame
which had spontaneously burst out in France, in Spain, and in Russia at the first shock
of foreign aggression. But the passion of the Prussian people, if it had taken long to
kindle, was deep, steadfast, and rational. It was undisgraced by the frenzies of 1792, or
by the religious fanaticism of the Spanish war of liberation; where religion entered into
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the struggle, it heightened the spirit of self-sacrifice rather than that of hatred to the
enemy. Nor was it a thing of small moment to the future of Europe that in every
leading mind the cause of Prussia was identified with the cause of the whole German
race. The actual condition of Germany warranted no such conclusion, for Saxony,
Bavaria, and the whole of the Rhenish Federation still followed Napoleon: but the spirit
and the ideas which became a living force when at length the contest with Napoleon
broke out were those of men like Stein, who in the depths of Germany's humiliation
had created the bright and noble image of a common Fatherland. It was no more given
to Stein to see his hopes fulfilled than it was given to Mirabeau to establish
constitutional liberty in France, or to the Italian patriots of 1797 to create a united Italy.
A group of States where kings like Frederick William and Francis, ministers like
Hardenberg and Metternich, governed millions of people totally destitute of political
instincts and training, was not to be suddenly transformed into a free nation by the
genius of an individual or the patriotism of a single epoch. But if the work of German
union was one which, even in the barren form of military empire, required the efforts of
two more generations, the ideals of 1813 were no transient and ineffective fancy. Time
was on the side of those who called the Prussian monarchy the true centre round which
Germany could gather. If in the sequel Prussia was slow to recognise its own
opportunities, the fault was less with patriots who hoped too much than with kings and
ministers who dared too little.
For the moment, the measures of the Prussian Government were worthy of the spirit
shown by the nation. Scharnhorst's military system had given Prussia 100,000 trained
soldiers ready to join the existing army of 45,000. The scheme for the formation of a
Landwehr, though not yet carried into effect, needed only to receive the sanction of the
King. On the same day that Frederick William issued his proclamation to the people, he
decreed the formation of the Landwehr and the Landsturm. The latter force, which was
intended in case of necessity to imitate the peasant warfare of Spain and La Vendée,
had no occasion to act: the Landwehr, though its arming was delayed by the poverty
and exhaustion of the country, gradually became a most formidable reserve, and sent its
battalions to fight by the side of the regulars in some of the greatest engagements in the
war. It was the want of arms and money, not of willing soldiers, that prevented Prussia
from instantly attacking Napoleon with 200,000 men. The conscription was scarcely
needed from the immense number of volunteers who joined the ranks. Though the
completion of the Prussian armaments required some months more, Prussia did not
need to stand upon the defensive. An army of 50,000 men was ready to cross the Elbe
immediately on the arrival of the Russians, and to open the next campaign in the
territory of Napoleon's allies of the Rhenish Federation.
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CHAPTER XI.
[Napoleon in 1813.]
The first three months of the year 1813 were spent by Napoleon in vigorous
preparation for a campaign in Northern Germany. Immediately after receiving the news
of York's convention with the Russians he had ordered a levy of 350,000 men. It was in
vain that Frederick William and Hardenberg affected to disavow the general as a
traitor; Napoleon divined the national character of York's act, and laid his account for a
war against the combined forces of Prussia and Russia. In spite of the catastrophe of
the last campaign, Napoleon was still stronger than his enemies. Italy and the Rhenish
Federation had never wavered in their allegiance; Austria, though a cold ally, had at
least shown no signs of hostility. The resources of an empire of forty million
inhabitants were still at Napoleon's command. It was in the youth and inexperience of
the new soldiers, and in the scarcity of good officers, [179] that the losses of the
previous year showed their most visible effect. Lads of seventeen, commanded in great
part by officers who had never been through a campaign, took the place of the soldiers
who had fought at Friedland and Wagram. They were as brave as their predecessors,
but they failed in bodily strength and endurance. Against them came the remnant of the
men who had pursued Napoleon from Moscow, and a Prussian army which was but the
vanguard of an armed nation. Nevertheless, Napoleon had no cause to expect defeat,
provided that Austria remained on his side. Though the Prussian nation entered upon
the conflict in the most determined spirit, a war on the Elbe against Russia and Prussia
combined was a less desperate venture than a war with Russia alone beyond the
Niemen.
When King Frederick William published his declaration of war (March 17), the army
of Eugène had already fallen back as far west as Magdeburg, leaving garrisons in most
of the fortresses between the Elbe and the Russian frontier. Napoleon was massing
troops on the Main, and preparing for an advance in force, when the Prussians,
Napoleon was now known to be approaching with considerable force by the roads of
the Saale. A pitched battle west of the Elbe was necessary before the Allies could hope
to win over any of the States of the Rhenish Confederacy; the flat country beyond
Leipzig offered the best possible field for cavalry, in which the Allies were strong and
Napoleon extremely deficient. It was accordingly determined to unite all the divisions
of the army with Blücher on the west of Leipzig, and to attack the French as soon as
they descended from the hilly country of the Saale, and began their march across the
Saxon plain. The Allies took post at Lützen: the French advanced, and at midday on the
2nd of May the battle of Lützen began. Till evening, victory inclined to the Allies. The
Prussian soldiery fought with the utmost spirit; for the first time in Napoleon's
campaigns, the French infantry proved weaker than an enemy when fighting against
them in equal numbers. But the generalship of Napoleon turned the scale. Seventy
thousand of the French were thrown upon fifty thousand of the Allies; the battle was
fought in village streets and gardens, where cavalry were useless; and at the close of
the day, though the losses on each side were equal, the Allies were forced from the
positions which they had gained. Such a result was equivalent to a lost battle.
Napoleon's junction with the army of Eugène at Magdeburg was now inevitable, unless
a second engagement was fought and won. No course remained to the Allies but to
stake everything upon a renewed attack, or to retire behind the Elbe and meet the
reinforcements assembling in Silesia. King Frederick William declared for a second
battle; [180] he was over-ruled, and the retreat commenced. Napoleon entered Dresden
on May 14th. No attempt was made by the Allies to hold the line of the Elbe; all the
sanguine hopes with which Blücher and his comrades had advanced to attack Napoleon
within the borders of the Rhenish Confederacy were dashed to the ground. The
Fatherland remained divided against itself. Saxony and the rest of the vassal States
were secured to France by the victory of Lützen; the liberation of Germany was only to
be wrought by prolonged and obstinate warfare, and by the wholesale sacrifice of
Prussian life.
It was with deep disappointment, but not with any wavering of purpose, that the allied
generals fell back before Napoleon towards the Silesian fortresses. The Prussian troops
which had hitherto taken part in the war were not the third part of those which the
Government was arming; new Russian divisions were on the march from Poland. As
the Allies moved eastwards from the Elbe, both their own forces and those of Napoleon
gathered strength. The retreat stopped at Bautzen, on the river Spree; and here, on the
19th of May, 90,000 of the Allies and the same number of the French drew up in order
of battle. The Allies held a long, broken chain of hills behind the river, and the ground
lying between these hills and the village of Bautzen. On the 20th the French began the
attack, and won the passage of the river. In spite of the approach of Ney with 40,000
more troops, the Czar and the King of Prussia determined to continue the battle on the
following day. The struggle of the 21st was of the same obstinate and indecisive
character as that at Lützen. Twenty-five thousand French had been killed or wounded
before the day was over, but the bad generalship of the Allies had again given
Napoleon the victory. The Prussian and Russian commanders were all at variance;
Alexander, who had to decide in their contentions, possessed no real military faculty. It
was not for want of brave fighting and steadfastness before the enemy that Bautzen was
lost. The Allies retreated in perfect order, and without the loss of a single gun.
Napoleon followed, forcing his wearied regiments to ceaseless exertion, in the hope of
ruining by pursuit an enemy whom he could not overthrow in battle. In a few more
days the discord of the allied generals and the sufferings of the troops would probably
have made them unable to resist Napoleon's army, weakened as it was. But the
conqueror himself halted in the moment of victory. On the 4th of June an armistice of
seven weeks arrested the pursuit, and brought the first act of the War of Liberation to a
close.
Napoleon's motive for granting this interval to his enemies, the most fatal step in his
whole career, has been vaguely sought among the general reasons for military delay; as
a matter of fact, Napoleon was thinking neither of the condition of his own army nor of
that of the Allies when he broke off hostilities, but of the probable action of the Court
of Vienna. [181] "I shall grant a truce," he wrote to the Viceroy of Italy (June 2, 1813),
"on account of the armaments of Austria, and in order to gain time to bring up the
Italian army to Laibach to threaten Vienna." Austria had indeed resolved to regain,
either by war or negotiation, the provinces which it had lost in 1809. It was now
preparing to offer its mediation, but it was also preparing to join the Allies in case
Napoleon rejected its demands. Metternich was anxious to attain his object, if possible,
without war. The Austrian State was bankrupt; its army had greatly deteriorated since
1809; Metternich himself dreaded both the ambition of Russia and what he considered
the revolutionary schemes of the German patriots. It was his object not to drive
Napoleon from his throne, but to establish a European system in which neither France
nor Russia should be absolutely dominant. Soon after the retreat from Moscow the
Cabinet of Vienna had informed Napoleon, though in the most friendly terms, that
Austria could not longer remain in the position of a dependent ally. [182] Metternich
stated, and not insincerely, that by certain concessions Napoleon might still count on
Austria's friendship; but at the same time he negotiated with the allied Powers, and
Immediately after the conclusion of the armistice of June 4th, Metternich invited
Napoleon to accept Austria's mediation for a general peace. The settlement which
Metternich contemplated was a very different one from that on which Stein and the
Prussian patriots had set their hopes. Austria was willing to leave to Napoleon the
whole of Italy and Holland, the frontier of the Rhine, and the Protectorate of Western
Germany: all that was required by Metternich, as arbiter of Europe, was the restoration
of the provinces taken from Austria after the war of 1809, the reinstatement of Prussia
in Western Poland, and the abandonment by France of the North-German district
annexed in 1810. But to Napoleon the greater or less extent of the concessions asked by
Austria was a matter of no moment. He was determined to make no concessions at all,
and he entered into negotiations only for the purpose of disguising from Austria the
real object with which he had granted the armistice. While Napoleon affected to be
weighing the proposals of Austria, he was in fact calculating the number of marches
which would place the Italian army on the Austrian frontier; this once effected, he
expected to hear nothing more of Metternich's demands.
It was a game of deceit; but there was no one who was so thoroughly deceived as
Napoleon himself. By some extraordinary miscalculation on the part of his secret
agents, he was led to believe that the forces of [***] whole force of Austria, both in the
north and the south, amounted to only 100,000 men, [183] and it was on this estimate
that he had formed his plans of intimidation. In reality Austria had double that number
of men ready to take the field. By degrees Napoleon saw reason to suspect himself in
error. On the 11th of July he wrote to his Foreign Minister, Maret, bitterly reproaching
him with the failure of the secret service to gain any trustworthy information. It was not
too late to accept Metternich's terms. Yet even now, when the design of intimidating
Austria had proved an utter delusion, and Napoleon was convinced that Austria would
fight, and fight with very powerful forces, his pride and his invincible belief in his own
superiority prevented him from drawing back. He made an attempt to enter upon a
separate negotiation with Russia, and, when this failed, he resolved to face the conflict
with the whole of Europe.
There was no longer any uncertainty among Napoleon's enemies. On the 27th of June,
Austria had signed a treaty at Reichenbach, pledging itself to join the allied Powers in
the event of Napoleon rejecting the conditions to be proposed by Austria as mediator;
and the conditions so to be proposed were fixed by the same treaty. They were the
following:-The suppression of the Duchy of Warsaw; the restoration to Austria of the
Illyrian Provinces; and the surrender by Napoleon of the North-German district
annexed to his Empire in 1810. Terms more hostile to France than these Austria
declined to embody in its mediation. The Elbe might still sever Prussia from its
German provinces lost in 1807; Napoleon might still retain, as chief of the Rhenish
Confederacy, his sovereignty over the greater part of the German race.
From the moment when these conditions were fixed, there was nothing which the
Prussian generals so much dreaded as that Napoleon might accept them, and so rob the
Allies of the chance of crushing him by means of Austria's support. But their fears were
groundless. The counsels of Napoleon were exactly those which his worst enemies
would have desired him to adopt. War, and nothing but war, was his fixed resolve. He
affected to entertain Austria's propositions, and sent his envoy Caulaincourt to a
Congress which Austria summoned at Prague; but it was only for the purpose of
gaining a few more weeks of preparation. The Congress met; the armistice was
prolonged to the 10th of August. Caulaincourt, however, was given no power to close
with Austria's demands. He was ignorant that he had only been sent to Prague in order
to gain time. He saw the storm gathering: unable to believe that Napoleon intended to
fight all Europe rather than make the concessions demanded of him, he imagined that
his master still felt some doubt whether Austria and the other Powers meant to adhere
to their word. As the day drew nigh which closed the armistice and the period given for
a reply to Austria's ultimatum, Caulaincourt implored Napoleon not to deceive himself
with hopes that Austria would draw back. Napoleon had no such hope; he knew well
that Austria would declare war, and he accepted the issue. Caulaincourt heard nothing
more. At midnight on the 10th of August the Congress declared itself dissolved. Before
the dawn of the next morning the army in Silesia saw the blaze of the beacon-fires
which told that negotiation was at an end, and that Austria was entering the war on the
side of the Allies. [184]
Seven days' notice was necessary before the commencement of actual hostilities.
Napoleon, himself stationed at Dresden, held all the lower course of the Elbe; and his
generals had long had orders to be ready to march on the morning of the 18th. Forces
had come up from all parts of the Empire, raising the French army at the front to
300,000 men; but, for the first time in Napoleon's career, his enemies had won from a
pause in war results even surpassing his own. The strength of the Prussian and Russian
The three armies, now forming an arc from Wittenberg to the north of Bohemia, were
to converge upon the line of Napoleon's communications behind Dresden; if separately
attacked, their generals were to avoid all hazardous engagements, and to manoeuvre so
as to weary the enemy and preserve their own general relations, as far as possible,
unchanged. Blücher, as the most exposed, was expected to content himself the longest
with the defensive; the great army of Bohemia, after securing the mountain-passes
between Bohemia and Saxony, might safely turn Napoleon's position at Dresden, and
so draw the two weaker armies towards it for one vast and combined engagement in the
plain of Leipzig.
In outline, the plan of the Allies was that which Napoleon expected them to adopt. His
own design was to anticipate it by an offensive of extraordinary suddenness and effect.
Hostilities could not begin before the morning of the 18th of August; by the 21st or the
22nd, Napoleon calculated that he should have captured Berlin. Oudinot, who was at
Wittenberg with 80,000 men, had received orders to advance upon the Prussian capital
at the moment that the armistice expired, and to force it, if necessary by bombardment,
into immediate surrender. The effect of this blow, as Napoleon supposed, would be to
disperse the entire reserve-force of the Prussian monarchy, and paralyse the action of
its army in the field. While Oudinot marched on Berlin, Blücher was to be attacked in
Silesia, and prevented from rendering any assistance either on the north or on the south.
The mass of Napoleon's forces, centred at Dresden, and keeping watch upon the
movements of the army of Bohemia, would either fight a great battle, or, if the Allies
made a false movement, march straight upon Prague, the centre of Austria's supplies,
and reach it before the enemy. All the daring imagination of Napoleon's earlier
campaigns displayed itself in such a project, which, if successful, would have
terminated the war within ten days; but this imagination was no longer, as in those
earlier campaigns, identical with insight into real possibilities. The success of
Napoleon's plan involved the surprise or total defeat of Bernadotte before Berlin, the
disablement of Blücher, and a victory, or a strategical success equivalent to a victory,
over the vast army of the south. It demanded of a soldiery, inferior to the enemy in
numerical strength, the personal superiority which had belonged to the men of Jena and
On the 18th of August the forward movement began. Oudinot advanced from
Wittenberg towards Berlin; Napoleon himself hurried into Silesia, intending to deal
Blücher one heavy blow, and instantly to return and place himself before
Schwarzenberg. On the 21st, and following days, the Prussian general was attacked and
driven eastwards. Napoleon committed the pursuit to Macdonald, and hastened back to
Dresden, already threatened by the advance of the Austrians from Bohemia.
Schwarzenberg and the allied sovereigns, as soon as they heard that Napoleon had gone
to seek Blücher in Silesia, had in fact abandoned their cautious plans, and determined
to make an assault upon Dresden with the Bohemian army alone. But it was in vain that
they tried to surprise Napoleon. He was back at Dresden on the 25th, and ready for the
attack. Never were Napoleon's hopes higher than on this day. His success in Silesia had
filled him with confidence. He imagined Oudinot to be already in Berlin; and the
advance of Schwarzenberg against Dresden gave him the very opportunity which he
desired for crushing the Bohemian army in one great battle, before it could draw
support either from Blücher or from Bernadotte. Another Austerlitz seemed to be at
hand. Napoleon wrote to Paris that he should be in Prague before the enemy; and, while
he completed his defences in front of Dresden, he ordered Vandamme, with 40,000
men, to cross the Elbe at Königstein, and force his way south-westwards on to the
roads into Bohemia, in the rear of the Great Army, in order to destroy its magazines
and menace its line of retreat on Prague. On August 26th Schwarzenberg's host assailed
the positions of Napoleon on the slopes and gardens outside Dresden. Austrians,
Russians, and Prussians all took part in the attack. Moreau, the victor of Hohenlinden,
stood by the side of the Emperor Alexander, whom he had come to help against his
own countrymen. He lived only to witness one of the last and greatest victories of
France. The attack was everywhere repelled: the Austrian divisions were not only
beaten, but disgraced and overthrown. At the end of two days' fighting the Allies were
in full retreat, leaving 20,000 prisoners in the hands of Napoleon. It was a moment
when the hearts of the bravest sank, and when hope itself might well vanish, as the
rumour passed through the Prussian regiments that Metternich was again in friendly
communication with Napoleon. But in the midst of Napoleon's triumph intelligence
arrived which robbed it of all its worth. Oudinot, instead of conquering Berlin, had
been defeated by the Prussians of Bernadotte's army at Grossbeeren (Aug. 23), and
driven back upon the Elbe. Blücher had turned upon Macdonald in Silesia, and
completely overthrown his army on the river Katzbach, at the very moment when the
Allies were making their assault upon Dresden. It was vain to think of a march upon
Prague, or of the annihilation of the Austrians, when on the north and the east
Napoleon's troops were meeting with nothing but disaster. The divisions which had
been intended to support Vandamme's movement from Königstein upon the rear of the
Great Army were retained in the neighbourhood of Dresden, in order to be within reach
of the points where their aid might be needed. Vandamme, ignorant of his isolation,
was left with scarcely 40,000 men to encounter the Great Army in its retreat.
He threw himself upon a Russian corps at Kulm, in the Bohemian mountains, on the
morning of the 29th. The Russians, at first few in number, held their ground during the
day; in the night, and after the battle had recommenced on the morrow, vast masses of
the allied troops poured in. The French fought desperately, but were overwhelmed.
Vandamme himself was made prisoner, with 10,000 of his men. The whole of the
stores and most of the cannon of his army remained in the enemy's hands.
The victory at Kulm secured the Bohemian army from pursuit, and almost extinguished
the effects of its defeat at Dresden. Thanks to the successes of Blücher and of
Bernadotte's Prussian generals, which prevented Napoleon from throwing all his forces
on to the rear of the Great Army, Schwarzenberg's rash attack had proved of no worse
significance than an unsuccessful raid. The Austrians were again in the situation
assigned to them in the original plan of the campaign, and capable of resuming their
advance into the interior of Saxony: Blücher and the northern commanders had not
only escaped separate destruction, but won great victories over the French: Napoleon,
weakened by the loss of 100,000 men, remained exactly where he had been at the
beginning of the campaign. Had the triple movement by which he meant to overwhelm
his adversaries been capable of execution, it would now have been fully executed. The
balance, however, had turned against Napoleon; and the twelve days from the 18th to
the 29th of August, though marked by no catastrophe like Leipzig or Waterloo, were in
fact the decisive period in the struggle of Europe against Napoleon. The attack by
which he intended to prevent the junction of the three armies had been made, and had
failed. Nothing now remained for him but to repeat the same movements with a
discouraged force against an emboldened enemy, or to quit the line of the Elbe, and
prepare for one vast and decisive encounter with all three armies combined. Napoleon
drove from his mind the thought of failure; he ordered Ney to take command of
Oudinot's army, and to lead it again, in increased strength, upon Berlin; he himself
hastened to Macdonald's beaten troops in Silesia, and rallied them for a new assault
upon Blücher. All was in vain. Ney, advancing on Berlin, was met by the Prussian
general Billow at Dennewitz, and totally routed (Sept. 6): Blücher, finding that
Napoleon himself was before him, skilfully avoided battle, and forced his adversary to
waste in fruitless marches the brief interval which he had [***] from his watch on
Schwarzenberg. Each conflict with the enemy, each vain and exhausting march, told
that the superiority had passed from the French to their foes, and that Napoleon's retreat
was now only a matter of time. "These creatures have learnt something," said Napoleon
in the bitterness of his heart, as he saw the columns of Blücher manoeuvring out of his
grasp. Ney's report of his own overthrow at Dennewitz sounded like an omen of the
ruin of Waterloo. "I have been totally defeated," he wrote, "and do not yet know
whether my army has re-assembled. The spirit of the generals and officers is shattered.
To command in such conditions is but half to command. I had rather be a common
grenadier."
[Metternich.]
The accession of Austria had turned the scale in favour of the Allies; it rested only with
the allied generals themselves to terminate the warfare round Dresden, and to lead their
armies into the heart of Saxony. For a while the course of the war flagged, and military
interests gave place to political. It was in the interval between the first great battles and
the final advance on Leipzig that the future of Germany was fixed by the three allied
Powers. In the excitement of the last twelve months little thought had been given,
except by Stein and his friends, to the political form to be set in the place of the
Napoleonic Federation of the Rhine. Stein, in the midst of the Russian campaign, had
hoped for a universal rising of the German people against Napoleon, and had proposed
the dethronement of all the German princes who supported his cause. His policy had
received the general approval of Alexander, and, on the entrance of the Russian army
into Germany, a manifesto had been issued appealing to the whole German nation, and
warning the vassals of Napoleon that they could only save themselves by submission.
[185] A committee had been appointed by the allied sovereigns, under the presidency of
Stein himself, to administer the revenues of all Confederate territory that should be
occupied by the allied armies. Whether the reigning Houses should be actually expelled
might remain in uncertainty; but it was the fixed hope of Stein and his friends that
those princes who were permitted to retain their thrones would be permitted to retain
them only as officers in a great German Empire, without sovereign rights either over
their own subjects or in relation to foreign States. The Kings of Bavaria and
Würtemberg had gained their titles and much of their despotic power at home from
Napoleon; their independence of the Head of Germany had made them nothing more
than the instruments of a foreign conqueror. Under whatever form the central authority
might be revived, Stein desired that it should be the true and only sovereign Power in
Germany, a Power to which every German might appeal against the oppression of a
minor Government, and in which the whole nation should find its representative before
the rest of Europe. In the face of such a central authority, whether an elected Parliament
or an Imperial Council, the minor princes could at best retain but a fragment of their
powers; and such was the theory accepted at the allied head-quarters down to the time
when Austria proffered its mediation and support. Then everything changed. The views
of the Austrian Government upon the future system of Germany were in direct
opposition to those of Stein's party. Metternich dreaded the thought of popular
agitation, and looked upon Stein, with his idea of a National Parliament and his plans
for dethroning the Rhenish princes, as little better than the Jacobins of 1792. The offer
of a restored imperial dignity in Germany was declined by the Emperor of Austria at
the instance of his Minister. With characteristic sense of present difficulties, and
blindness to the great forces which really contained their solution, Metternich argued
that the minor princes would only be driven into the arms of the foreigner by the
establishment of any supreme German Power. They would probably desert Napoleon if
the Allies guaranteed to them everything that they at present possessed; they would be
Till the last days of September the position of the hostile armies round Dresden
remained little changed, Napoleon unweariedly repeated his attacks, now on one side,
now on another, but without result. The Allies on their part seemed rooted to the soil.
Bernadotte, balanced between the desire to obtain Norway from the Allies and a foolish
hope of being called to the throne of France, was bent on doing the French as little
harm as possible; Schwarzenberg, himself an indifferent general, was distracted by the
councillors of all the three monarchs; Blücher alone pressed for decided and rapid
action. At length the Prussian commander gained permission to march northwards, and
unite his army with Bernadotte's in a forward movement across the Elbe. The
long-expected Russian reserves, led by Bennigsen, reached the Bohemian mountains;
and at the beginning of October the operation began which was to collect the whole of
the allied forces in the plain of Leipzig. Blücher forced the passage of the Elbe at
Wartenburg. It was not until Napoleon learnt that the army of Silesia had actually
crossed the river that he finally quitted Dresden. Then, hastening northwards, he threw
himself upon the Prussian general; but Blücher again avoided battle, as he had done in
Silesia; and on the 7th of October his army united with Bernadotte's, which had crossed
the Elbe two days before.
The enemy was closing in upon Napoleon. Obstinately as he had held on to the line of
the Elbe, he could hold on no longer. In the frustration of all his hopes there flashed
across his mind the wild project of a march eastwards to the Oder, and the gathering of
all the besieged garrisons for a campaign in which the enemy should stand between
himself and France; but the dream lasted only long enough to gain a record. Napoleon
ventured no more than to send a corps back to the Elbe to threaten Berlin, in the hope
of tempting Blücher and Bernadotte to abandon the advance which they had now begun
in co-operation with the great army of Schwarzenberg. From the 10th to the 14th of
October, Napoleon [***] at Düben, between Dresden and Leipzig, restlessly expecting
Napoleon drew up for battle. The number of his troops in position around the city was
170,000: about 15,000 others lay within call. He placed Marmont and Ney on the north
of Leipzig at the village of Möckern, to meet the expected onslaught of Blücher; and
himself, with the great mass of his army, took post on the south, facing Schwarzenberg.
On the morning of the 16th, Schwarzenberg began the attack. His numbers did not
exceed 150,000, for the greater part of the Russian army was a march in the rear. The
battle was an even one. The Austrians failed to gain ground: with one more army-corps
Napoleon saw that he could overpower the enemy. He was still without intelligence of
Blücher's actual appearance in the north; and in the rash hope that Blücher's coming
might be delayed, he sent orders to Ney and Marmont to leave their positions and hurry
to the south to throw themselves upon Schwarzenberg. Ney obeyed. Marmont, when
the order reached him, was actually receiving Blücher's first fire. He determined to
remain and defend the village of Möckern, though left without support. York,
commanding the vanguard of Blücher's army, assailed him with the utmost fury. A
third part of the troops engaged on each side were killed or wounded before the day
closed; but in the end the victory of the Prussians was complete. It was the only
triumph won by the Allies on this first day of the battle, but it turned the scale against
Napoleon. Marmont's corps was destroyed; Ney, divided between Napoleon and
Marmont, had rendered no effective help to either. Schwarzenberg, saved from a great
disaster, needed only to wait for Bernadotte and the Russian reserves, and to renew the
battle with an additional force of 100,000 men.
In the course of the night Napoleon sent proposals for peace. It was in the vain hope of
receiving some friendly answer from his father-in-law, the Austrian Emperor, that he
delayed making his retreat during the next day, while it might still have been
unmolested. No answer was returned to his letter. In the evening of the 17th,
Bennigsen's army reached the field of battle. Next morning began that vast and decisive
encounter known in the language of Germany as "the battle of the nations," the greatest
battle in all authentic history, the culmination of all the military effort of the
Napoleonic age. Not less than 300,000 men fought on the side of the Allies; Napoleon's
own forces numbered 170,000. The battle raged all round Leipzig, except on the west,
where no attempt was made to interpose between Napoleon and the line of his retreat.
As in the first engagement, the decisive successes were those of Blücher, now tardily
aided by Bernadotte, on the north; Schwarzenberg's divisions, on the south side of the
town, fought steadily, but without gaining much ground. But there was no longer any
doubt as to the issue of the struggle. If Napoleon could not break the Allies in the first
engagement, he had no chance against them now when they had been joined by
100,000 more men. The storm of attack grew wilder and wilder: there were no new
forces to call up for the defence. Before the day was half over Napoleon drew in his
The campaign was at an end. Napoleon led off a large army, but one that was in no
condition to turn upon its pursuers. At each stage in the retreat thousands of
fever-stricken wretches were left to terrify even the pursuing army with the dread of
their infection. It was only when the French found the road to Frankfort blocked at
Hanau by a Bavarian force that they rallied to the order of battle. The Bavarians were
cut to pieces; the road was opened; and, a fortnight after the Battle of Leipzig,
Napoleon, with the remnant of his great army, re-crossed the Rhine. Behind him the
fabric of his Empire fell to the ground. Jerome fled from Westphalia; [186] the princes
of the Rhenish Confederacy came one after another to make their peace with the Allies;
Bülow, with the army which had conquered Ney at Dennewitz, marched through the
north of Germany to the deliverance of Holland. Three days after Napoleon had crossed
the Rhine the Czar reached Frankfort; and here, on the 7th of November, a military
council was held, in which Blücher and Gneisenau, against almost all the other
generals, advocated an immediate invasion of France. The soldiers, however, had time
to re-consider their opinions, for, on the 9th, it was decided by the representatives of
the Powers to send an offer of peace to Napoleon, and the operations of the war were
suspended by common consent. The condition on which peace was offered to Napoleon
was the surrender of the conquests of France beyond the Alps and the Rhine. The
Allies were still willing to permit the Emperor to retain Belgium, Savoy, and the
Rhenish Provinces; they declined, however, to enter into any negotiation until
Napoleon had accepted this basis of peace; and they demanded a distinct reply before
the end of the month of November.
It was not on the eastern side alone that the invader was now entering France.
Wellington had passed the Pyrenees. His last victorious march into the north of Spain
began on the day when the Prussian and Russian armies were defeated by Napoleon at
Bautzen (May 21, 1813). During the armistice of Dresden, a week before Austria
signed the treaty which fixed the conditions of its armed mediation, he had gained an
overwhelming triumph at Vittoria over King Joseph and the French army, as it
retreated with all the spoils gathered in five years' occupation of Spain (June 21). A
series of bloody engagements had given the English the passes of the Pyrenees in those
same days of August and September that saw the allied armies close around Napoleon
at Dresden; and when, after the catastrophe of Leipzig, the wreck of Napoleon's host
was retreating beyond the Rhine, Soult, the defender of the Pyrenees, was driven by the
British general from his entrenchments on the Nivelle, and forced back under the walls
of Bayonne.
Twenty years had passed since, in the tempestuous morn of the Revolution, Hoche
swept the armies of the first coalition across the Alsatian frontier. Since then, French
[Campaign of 1814.]
For some days after the arrival of the monarchs and diplomatists at Langres (Jan. 22),
Metternich and the more timorous among the generals opposed any further advance
into France, and argued that the army had already gained all it needed by the
occupation of the border provinces. It was only upon the threat of the Czar to continue
the war by himself that the Austrians consented to move forward upon Paris. After
several days had been lost in discussion, the advance from Langres was begun. Orders
were given to Blücher, who had pushed back the French divisions commanded by
Marmont and Mortier, and who was now near St. Dizier on the Marne, to meet the
Great Army at Brienne. This was the situation of the Allies when, on the 25th of
January, Napoleon left Paris, and placed himself at Châlons on the Marne, at the head
of his left wing, having his right at Troyes and at Arcis, guarding the bridges over the
Seine and the Aube. Napoleon knew that Blücher was moving towards the Austrians;
he hoped to hold the Prussian general in check at St. Dizier, and to throw himself upon
the heads of Schwarzenberg's columns as they moved towards the Aube. Blücher,
however, had already passed St. Dizier when Napoleon reached it. Napoleon pursued,
and overtook the Prussians at Brienne. After an indecisive battle, Blücher fell back
towards Schwarzenberg. The allied armies effected their junction, and Blücher, now
supported by the Austrians, turned and marched down the right bank of the Aube to
meet Napoleon. Napoleon, though far outnumbered, accepted battle. He was attacked at
La Rothière close above Brienne, and defeated with heavy loss (Feb. 1). A vigorous
pursuit would probably have ended the war; but the Austrians held back.
Schwarzenberg believed peace to be already gained, and condemned all further action
as useless waste of life. In spite of the protests of the Emperor Alexander, he allowed
Napoleon to retire unmolested. Schwarzenberg's inaction was no mere error in military
judgment. There was a direct conflict between the Czar and the Austrian Cabinet as to
the end to be obtained by the war. Alexander already insisted on the dethronement of
Napoleon; the Austrian Government would have been content to leave Napoleon in
power if he would accept a peace giving France no worse a frontier than it had
possessed in 1791. Castlereagh, who had come from England, and Hardenberg were as
yet inclined to support Metternich's policy, although the whole Prussian army, the
public opinion of Great Britain, and the counsels of Stein and all the bolder Prussian
statesmen, were on the side of the Czar. [188]
Already the influence of the peace-party was so far in the ascendant that negotiations
had been opened with Napoleon. Representatives of all the Powers assembled at
Châtillon, in Burgundy; and there, towards the end of January, Caulaincourt appeared
on behalf of France. The first sitting took place on the 5th of February; on the
following day Caulaincourt received full powers from Napoleon to conclude peace.
The Allies laid down as the condition of peace the limitation of France to the frontiers
of 1791. Had Caulaincourt dared to conclude peace instantly on these terms, Napoleon
would have retained his throne; but he was aware that Napoleon had only granted him
full powers in consequence of the disastrous battle of La Rothière, and he feared to be
disavowed by his master as soon as the army had escaped from danger. Instead of
simply accepting the Allies' offer, he raised questions as to the future of Italy and
Germany. The moment was lost; on the 9th of February the Czar recalled his envoy
from Châtillon, and the sittings of the Congress were broken off.
Schwarzenberg was now slowly and unwillingly moving forwards along the Seine
towards Troyes. Blücher was permitted to return to the Marne, and to advance upon
Paris by an independent line of march. He crossed the country between the Aube and
the Marne, and joined some divisions which he had left behind him on the latter river.
But his dispositions were outrageously careless: his troops were scattered over a space
of sixty miles from Châlons westward, as if he had no enemy to guard against except
the weak divisions commanded by Mortier and Marmont, which had uniformly fallen
back before his advance. Suddenly Napoleon himself appeared at the centre of the long
Prussian line at Champaubert. He had hastened northwards in pursuit of Blücher with
30,000 men, as soon as Schwarzenberg entered Troyes; and on February 10th a weak
Russian corps that lay in the centre of Blücher's column was overwhelmed before it
was known the Emperor had left the Seine. Then, turning leftwards, Napoleon
overthrew the Prussian vanguard at Montmirail, and two days later attacked and
defeated Blücher himself, who was bringing up the remainder of his troops in total
ignorance of the enemy with whom he had to deal. In four days Blücher's army, which
numbered 70,000 men, had thrice been defeated in detail by a force of 30,000. Blücher
was compelled to fall back upon Châlons; Napoleon instantly returned to the support of
Oudinot's division, which he had left in front of Schwarzenberg. In order to relieve
Blücher, the Austrians had pushed forward on the Seine beyond Montereau. Within
three days after the battle with Blücher, Napoleon was back upon the Seine, and
attacking the heads of the Austrian column. On the 18th of February he gained so
decisive a victory at Montereau that Schwarzenberg abandoned the advance, and fell
back upon Troyes, sending word to Blücher to come southwards again and help him to
fight a great battle. Blücher moved off with admirable energy, and came into the
The effect of Napoleon's sudden victories on the Marne was instantly seen in the
councils of the allied sovereigns. Alexander, who had withdrawn his envoy from
Châtillon, could no longer hold out against negotiations with Napoleon. He restored the
powers of his envoy, and the Congress re-assembled. But Napoleon already saw
himself in imagination driving the invaders beyond the Rhine, and sent orders to
Caulaincourt to insist upon the terms proposed at Frankfort, which left to France both
the Rhenish Provinces and Belgium. At the same time he attempted to open a private
negotiation with his father-in-law the Emperor of Austria, and to detach him from the
cause of the Allies. The attempt failed; the demands now made by Caulaincourt
overcame even the peaceful inclinations of the Austrian Minister; and on the 1st of
March the Allies signed a new treaty at Chaumont, pledging themselves to conclude no
peace with Napoleon that did not restore the frontier of 1791, and to maintain a
defensive alliance against France for a period of twenty years. [189] Caulaincourt
continued for another fortnight at Châtillon, instructed by Napoleon to prolong the
negotiations, but forbidden to accept the only conditions which the Allies were willing
to grant.
Blücher was now on his way northwards to join the so-called army of Bernadotte upon
the Aisne. Since the Battle of Leipzig, Bernadotte himself had taken no part in the
movements of the army nominally under his command. The Netherlands had been
conquered by Bülow and the Russian general Winzingerode, and these officers were
now pushing southwards in order to take part with Blücher in a movement against
Paris. Napoleon calculated that the fortress of Soissons would bar the way to the
northern army, and enable him to attack and crush Blücher before he could effect a
junction with his colleagues. He set out in pursuit of the Prussians, still hoping for a
second series of victories like those he had won upon the Marne. But the cowardice of
the commander of Soissons ruined his chances of success. The fortress surrendered to
the Russians at the first summons. Blücher met the advanced guard of the northern
army upon the Aisne on the 4th of March, and continued his march towards Laon for
the purpose of uniting with its divisions which lay in the rear. The French followed, but
the only advantage gained by Napoleon was a victory over a detached Russian corps at
Craonne. Marmont was defeated with heavy loss by a sally of Blücher from his strong
position on the hill of Laon (March 10); and the Emperor himself, unable to restore the
fortune of the battle, fell back upon Soissons, and thence marched southward to throw
himself again upon the line of the southern army.
[Capitulation of Marmont.]
The Allies had pressed forward without taking any notice of Napoleon's movements,
and at early morning on the 30th they had opened the attack on the north-eastern
heights of Paris. Marmont, with the fragments of a beaten army and some weak
divisions of the National Guard, had but 35,000 men to oppose to three times that
number of the enemy. The Government had taken no steps to arm the people, or to
prolong resistance after the outside line of defence was lost, although the erection of
barricades would have held the Allies in check until Napoleon arrived with his army.
While Marmont fought in the outer suburbs, masses of the people were drawn up on
Montmartre, expecting the Emperor's appearance, and the spectacle of a great and
decisive battle. But the firing in the outskirts stopped soon after noon: it was announced
that Marmont had capitulated. The report struck the people with stupor and fury. They
had vainly been demanding arms since early morning; and even after the capitulation
Napoleon's reign was indeed at an end. Since the rupture of the Congress of Châtillon
on the 18th of March, the Allies had determined to make his dethronement a condition
of peace. As the end approached, it was seen that no successor was possible but the
chief of the House of Bourbon, although Austria would perhaps have consented to the
establishment of a Regency under the Empress Marie Louise, and the Czar had for a
time entertained the project of placing Bernadotte at the head of the French State.
Immediately after the entry into Paris it was determined to raise the exile Louis XVIII.
to the throne. The politicians of the Empire who followed Talleyrand were not
unwilling to unite with the conquerors, and with the small party of Royalist noblesse, in
recalling the Bourbon dynasty. Alexander, who was the real master of the situation,
rightly judged Talleyrand to be the man most capable of enlisting the public opinion of
France on the side of the new order. He took up his abode at Talleyrand's house, and
employed this dexterous statesman as the advocate both of the policy of the Allies, and
of the principles of constitutional liberty, which at this time Alexander himself
sincerely befriended. A Provisional Government was appointed under Talleyrand's
leadership. On the 2nd of April the Senate proclaimed the dethronement of Napoleon.
On the 6th it published a Constitution, and recalled the House of Bourbon.
Louis XVIII. was still in England: his brother, the Count of Artois, had joined the
invaders in France and assumed the title of Lieutenant of the Kingdom; but the
influence of Alexander was necessary to force this obstinate and unteachable man into
anything like a constitutional position. The Provisional Government invited the Count
to take up the administration until the King's arrival, in virtue of a decree of the Senate.
D'Artois declined to recognise the Senate's competency, and claimed the Lieutenancy
of the Kingdom as his brother's representative. The Senate refusing to admit the
Count's divine right, some unmeaning words were exchanged when d'Artois entered
Paris; and the Provisional Government, disregarding the claims of the Royal
Lieutenant, continued in the full exercise of its powers. At length the Czar insisted that
d'Artois should give way. The decree of the Senate was accordingly accepted by him at
the Tuileries on the 14th of April; the Provisional Government retired, and a Council of
State was formed, in which Talleyrand still continued to exercise the real powers of
government. In the address made by d'Artois on this occasion, he stated that although
the King had not empowered him to accept the Constitution made by the Senate on the
6th of April, he entertained no doubt that the King would accept the principles
embodied in that Constitution, which were those of Representative Government, of the
freedom of the press, and of the responsibility of ministers. A week after d'Artois'
declaration, Louis XVIII. arrived in France.
[Feeling of Paris.]
The promises of Louis himself, the unbroken courtesy and friendliness shown by the
Allies to Paris since their victory a month before, had almost extinguished the popular
feeling of hostility towards a dynasty which owed its recall to the overthrow of French
armies. The foreign leaders themselves had begun to excite a certain admiration and
interest. Alexander was considered, and with good reason, as a generous enemy; the
simplicity of the King of Prussia, his misfortunes, his well-remembered gallantry at the
Battle of Jena, gained him general sympathy. It needed but little on the part of the
returning Bourbons to convert the interest and curiosity of Paris into affection. The
cortège which entered the capital with Louis XVIII. brought back, in a singular motley
of obsolete and of foreign costumes, the bearers of many unforgotten names. The look
of the King himself, as he drove through Paris, pleased the people. The childless father
of the murdered Duke of Enghien gained the pitying attention of those few who knew
the face of a man twenty-five years an exile. But there was one among the members of
the returning families whom every heart in Paris went out to meet. The daughter of
Louis XVI., who had shared the captivity of her parents and of her brother, the sole
survivor of her deeply-wronged house, now returned as Duchess of Angoulême. The
uniquely mournful history of her girlhood, and her subsequent marriage with her
cousin, the son of the Count of Artois, made her the natural object of a warmer
sympathy than could attach to either of the brothers of Louis XVI. But adversity had
imprinted its lines too deeply upon the features and the disposition of this joyless
woman for a moment's light to return. Her voice and her aspect repelled the affection
which thousands were eager to offer to her. Before the close of the first days of the
restored monarchy, it was felt that the Bourbons had brought back no single person
among them who was capable of winning the French nation's love.
The recall of the ancient line had been allowed to appear to the world as the work of
France itself; Napoleon's fate could only be fixed by his conquerors. After the fall of
Paris, Napoleon remained at Fontainebleau awaiting events. The soldiers and the
younger officers of his army were still ready to fight for him; the marshals, however,
were utterly weary, and determined that France should no longer suffer for the sake of a
single man. They informed Napoleon that he must abdicate. Yielding to their pressure,
Napoleon, on the 3rd of April, drew up an act of abdication in favour of his infant son,
and sent it by Caulaincourt to the allied sovereigns at Paris. The document was rejected
by the Allies; Caulaincourt returned with the intelligence that Napoleon must renounce
the throne for himself and all his family. For a moment the Emperor thought of
renewing the war; but the marshals refused their aid more resolutely than before, and,
on the 6th of April, Napoleon signed an unconditional surrender of the throne for
himself and his heirs. He was permitted by the Allies to retain the unmeaning title of
Emperor, and to carry with him a body-guard and a considerable revenue to the island
of Elba, henceforward to be his principality and his prison. The choice of this island,
within easy reach of France and Italy, and too extensive to be guarded without a large
fleet, was due to Alexander's ill-judged generosity towards Napoleon, and to a promise
made to Marmont that the liberty of the Emperor should be respected. Alexander was
not left without warning of the probable effects of his leniency. Sir Charles Stewart,
military representative of Great Britain at the allied head-quarters, urged both his own
and the allied Governments to substitute some more distant island for Elba, if they
desired to save Europe from a renewed Napoleonic war, and France from the misery of
a second invasion. The Allies, though not without misgivings, adhered to their original
plan, and left it to time to justify the predictions of their adviser.
It was well known what would be the terms of peace, now that Napoleon was removed
from the throne. The Allies had no intention of depriving France of any of the territory
that it had held before 1792: the conclusion of a definitive Treaty was only postponed
until the Constitution, which Alexander required King Louis XVIII. to grant, had been
drawn up by a royal commission and approved by the King. On the 27th of May the
draft of this Constitution, known as the Charta, was laid before the King, and
sanctioned by him; on the 30th, the Treaty of Paris was signed by the representatives of
France and of all the great Powers. [191] France, surrendering all its conquests,
accepted the frontier of the 1st of January, 1792, with a slight addition of territory on
the side of Savoy and at points on its northern and eastern border. It paid no indemnity.
It was permitted to retain all the works of art accumulated by twenty years of rapine,
except the trophies carried from the Brandenburg Gate of Berlin and the spoils of the
Library of Vienna. It received back nearly all the colonies which had been taken from it
by Great Britain. By the clauses of the Treaty disposing of the territory that had formed
the Empire and the dependencies of Napoleon, Holland was restored to the House of
Orange, with the provision that its territory should be largely increased; Switzerland
was declared independent; it was stipulated that Italy, with the exception of the
Austrian Provinces, should consist of independent States, and that Germany should
remain distributed among a multitude of sovereigns, independent, but united by a
Federal tie. The navigation of the Rhine was thrown open. By a special agreement with
Great Britain the French Government undertook to unite its efforts to those of England
in procuring the suppression of the Slave-trade by all the Powers, and pledged itself to
Much yet remained to be settled by the Congress at Vienna, but in the Treaty of Paris
two at least of the great Powers saw the objects attained for which they had straggled
so persistently through all the earlier years of the war, and which at a later time had
appeared to pass almost out of the range of possibility. England saw the Netherlands
once more converted into a barrier against France, and Antwerp held by friendly hands.
Austria reaped the full reward of its cool and well-balanced diplomacy during the crisis
of 1813, in the annexation of an Italian territory that made it the real mistress of the
Peninsula. Castlereagh and every other English politician felt that Europe had done
itself small honour in handing Venice back to the Hapsburg; but this had been the
condition exacted by Metternich at Prague before he consented to throw the sword of
Austria into the trembling scale; [193] and the Republican traditions both of Venice and
of Genoa counted for little among the statesmen of 1814, in comparison with the divine
right of a Duke of Modena or a Prince of Hesse Cassel. [194] France itself, though
stripped of the dominion won by twenty years of warfare, was permitted to retain, for
the benefit of a restored line of kings, the whole of its ancient territory, and the spoil of
all the galleries and museums of Western Europe. It would have been no unnatural
wrong if the conquerors of 1814 had dealt with the soil of France as France had dealt
with other lands; it would have been an act of bare justice to restore to its rightful
owners the pillage that had been brought to Paris, and to recover from the French
treasury a part of the enormous sums which Napoleon had extorted from conquered
States. But the Courts were too well satisfied with their victory to enter into a strict
account upon secondary matters; and a prudent regard on the part of the Allies to the
prospects of the House of Bourbon saved France from experiencing what it had
inflicted upon others.
[All the Powers except France gained territory by the war, 1792-1814.]
The policy which now restored to France the frontier of 1792 was viewed with a very
different feeling in France and in all other countries. Europe looked with a kind of
wonder upon its own generosity; France forgot the unparalleled provocations which it
had offered to mankind, and only remembered that Belgium and the Rhenish Provinces
had formed part of the Republic and the Empire for nearly twenty years. These early
conquests of the Republic, which no one had attempted to wrest from France since
1795, had undoubtedly been the equivalent for which, in the days of the Directory,
The league of the older monarchies had proved stronger in the end than the genius and
the ambition of a single man. But if, in the service of Napoleon, France had exhausted
its wealth, sunk its fleets, and sacrificed a million lives, only that it might lose all its
earlier conquests, and resume limits which it had outgrown before Napoleon held his
first command, it was not thus with the work which, for or against itself, France had
effected in Europe during the movements of the last twenty years. In the course of the
epoch now ending the whole of the Continent up to the frontiers of Austria and Russia
had gained the two fruitful ideas of nationality and political freedom. There were now
two nations in Europe where before there had been but aggregates of artificial States.
Germany and Italy were no longer mere geographical expressions: in both countries,
though in a very unequal degree, the newly-aroused sense of nationality had brought
with it the claim for unity and independence. In Germany, Prussia had set a great
example, and was hereafter to reap its reward; in Italy there had been no State and no
statesman to take the lead either in throwing off Napoleon's rule, or in forcing him, as
the price of support, to give to his Italian kingdom a really national government.
Failing to act for itself, the population of all Italy, except Naples, was parcelled out
between Austria and the ancient dynasties; but the old days of passive submission to
the foreigner were gone for ever, and time was to show whether those were the
dreamers who thought of a united Italy, or those who thought that Metternich's
statesmanship had for ever settled the fate of Venice and of Milan.
The second legacy of the Revolutionary epoch, the idea of constitutional freedom,
which in 1789 had been as much wanting in Spain, where national spirit was the
strongest, as in those German States where it was the weakest, had been excited in Italy
by the events of 1796 and 1798, in Spain by the disappearance of the Bourbon king and
the self-directed struggle of the nation against the invader; in Prussia it had been
introduced by the Government itself when Stein was at the head of the State. "It is
impossible," wrote Lord Castlereagh in the spring of 1814, "not to perceive a great
moral change coming on in Europe, and that the principles of freedom are in full
operation." [195] There was in fact scarcely a Court in Europe which was not now
declaring its intention to frame a Constitution. The professions might be lightly made;
the desire and the capacity for self-government might still be limited to a narrower
class than the friends of liberty imagined; but the seed was sown, and a movement had
begun which was to gather strength during the next thirty years of European history,
while one revolution after another proved that Governments could no longer with
safety disregard the rights of their subjects.
[Social changes.]
Lastly, in all the territory that had formed Napoleon's Empire and dependencies, and
also in Prussia, legal changes had been made in the rights and relations of the different
classes of society, so important as almost to create a new type of social life. Within the
Empire itself the Code Napoléon, conferring upon the subjects of France the benefits
which the French had already won for themselves, had superseded a society resting on
class-privilege, on feudal service, and on the despotism of custom, by a society resting
on equality before the law, on freedom of contract, and on the unshackled ownership
and enjoyment of land, whether the holder possessed an acre or a league. The
principles of the French Code, if not the Code itself, had been introduced into
Napoleon's kingdom of Italy, into Naples, and into almost all the German dependencies
of France. In Prussia the reforms of Stein and Hardenberg had been directed, though
less boldly, towards the same end; and when, after 1814, the Rhenish Provinces were
annexed to Prussia by the Congress of Vienna, the Government was wise enough and
liberal enough to leave these districts in the enjoyment of the laws which France had
given them, and not to risk a comparison between even the best Prussian legislation and
the Code Napoleon. In other territory now severed from France and restored to German
or Italian princes, attempts were not wanting to obliterate the new order and to
re-introduce the burdens and confusions of the old regime. But these reactions, even
where unopposed for a time, were too much in conflict with the spirit of the age to gain
more than a temporary and precarious success. The people had begun to know good
and evil: examples of a free social order were too close at hand to render it possible for
any part of the western continent to relapse for any very long period into the condition
of the eighteenth century.
[Limits.]
It was indeed within a distinct limit that the Revolutionary epoch effected its work of
political and social change. Neither England nor Austria received the slightest impulse
CHAPTER XII.
Of all the events which, in the more recent history of mankind, have struck the minds
of nations with awe, and appeared to reveal in its direct operation a power overruling
the highest human effort, there is none equal in grandeur and terror to the annihilation
of Napoleon's army in the invasion of Russia. It was natural that a generation which
[Settlement of 1814.]
[Norway.]
The Empire of Napoleon had indeed passed away. The conquests won by the first
soldiers of the Republic were lost to France along with all the latest spoils of its
Emperor; but the restoration which was effected in 1814 was no restoration of the
political order which had existed on the Continent before the outbreak of the
Revolutionary War. The Powers which had overthrown Napoleon had been partakers,
each in its own season, in the system of aggrandisement which had obliterated the old
frontiers of Europe. Russia had gained Finland, Bessarabia, and the greater part of
Poland; Austria had won Venice, Dalmatia, and Salzburg; Prussia had received
between the years 1792 and 1806 an extension of territory in Poland and Northern
Germany that more than doubled its area. It was now no part of the policy of the
victorious Courts to reinstate the governments which they had themselves
dispossessed: the settlement of 1814, in so far as it deserved the name of a restoration,
was confined to the territory taken from Napoleon and from princes of his house. Here,
though the claims of Republics and Ecclesiastical Princes were forgotten, the titles of
the old dynasties were freely recognised. In France itself, in the Spanish Peninsula, in
Holland, Westphalia, Piedmont, and Tuscany, the banished houses resumed their
sovereignty. It cost the Allies nothing to restore these countries to their hereditary
rulers, and it enabled them to describe the work of 1814 in general terms as the
restoration of lawful government and national independence. But the claims of
legitimacy, as well as of national right, were, as a matter of fact, only remembered
where there existed no motive to disregard them; where they conflicted with
arrangements of policy, they received small consideration. Norway, which formed part
of the Danish monarchy, had been promised by Alexander to Bernadotte, Crown Prince
of Sweden, in 1812, in return for his support against Napoleon, and the bargain had
been ratified by the Allies. As soon as Napoleon was overthrown, Bernadotte claimed
his reward. It was in vain that the Norwegians, abandoned by their king, declared
themselves independent, and protested against being handed over like a flock of sheep
by the liberators of Europe. The Allies held to their contract; a British fleet was sent to
assist Bernadotte in overpowering his new subjects, and after a brief resistance the
Norwegians found themselves compelled to submit to their fate (April-Aug., 1814).
[198] At the other extremity of Europe a second of Napoleon's generals still held his
throne among the restored legitimate monarchs. Murat, King of Naples, had forsaken
Napoleon in time to make peace and alliance with Austria. Great Britain, though
entering into a military convention, had not been a party to this treaty; and it had
declared that its own subsequent support of Murat would depend upon the condition
that he should honourably exert himself in Italy against Napoleon's forces. This
condition Murat had not fulfilled. The British Government was, however, but gradually
supplied with proofs of his treachery; nor was Lord Liverpool, the Prime Minister,
inclined to raise new difficulties at Vienna by pressing the claim of Ferdinand of Sicily
to his territories on the mainland. [199] Talleyrand, on behalf of the restored Bourbons
of Paris, intended to throw all his strength into a diplomatic attack upon Murat before
the end of the Congress; but for the present Murat's chances seemed to be superior to
those of his rival. Southern Italy thus continued in the hands of a soldier of fortune,
who, unlike Bernadotte, was secretly the friend of Napoleon, and ready to support him
in any attempt to regain his throne.
[Restoration in Westphalia.]
[Restoration in Spain.]
The Hessians and their neighbours in North-Western Germany had from of old been
treated with very little ceremony by their rulers; and if they welcomed back a family
which had been accustomed to hire them out at so much a head to fight against the
Hindoos or by the side of the North American Indians, it only proved that they
preferred their native taskmasters to Jerome Bonaparte and his French crew of revellers
and usurers. The next scene in the European reaction was a far more mournful one.
Ferdinand of Spain had no sooner re-crossed the Pyrenees in the spring of 1814, than,
convinced of his power by the transports of popular enthusiasm that attended his
progress through Northern Spain, he determined to overthrow the Constitution of 1812,
and to re-establish the absolute monarchy which had existed before the war. The
courtiers and ecclesiastics who gathered round the King dispelled any scruples that he
might have felt in lifting his hand against a settlement accepted by the nation. They
represented to him that the Cortes of 1812-which, whatever their faults, had been
recognised as the legitimate Government of Spain by both England and
Russia-consisted of a handful of desperate men, collected from the streets of Cadiz,
The victory of the clergy was soon declared. On the 11th of May the King issued a
manifesto at Valencia, proclaiming the Constitution of 1812 and every decree of the
Cortes null and void, and denouncing the penalties of high treason against everyone
who should defend the Constitution by act, word, or writing. A variety of promises,
made only to be broken, accompanied this assertion of the rights of the Crown. The
King pledged himself to summon new Cortes as soon as public order should be
restored, to submit the expenditure to the control of the nation, and to maintain
inviolate the security of person and property. It was a significant comment upon
Ferdinand's professions of Liberalism that on the very day on which the proclamation
was issued the censorship of the Press was restored. But the King had not miscalculated
his power over the Spanish people. The same storm of wild, unreasoning loyalty which
had followed Ferdinand's reappearance in Spain followed the overthrow of the
Constitution. The mass of the Spaniards were ignorant of the very meaning of political
liberty: they adored the King as a savage adores his fetish: their passions were at the
call of a priesthood as brutish and unscrupulous as that which in 1798 had excited the
Lazzaroni of Naples against the Republicans of Southern Italy. No sooner had
Ferdinand set the example, by arresting thirty of the most distinguished of the Liberals,
than tumults broke out in every part of the country against Constitutionalist magistrates
and citizens. Mobs, headed by priests bearing the standard of the Inquisition, destroyed
the tablets erected in honour of the Constitution of 1812, and burned Liberal writings in
bonfires in the market-places. The prisons were filled with men who, but a short time
before, had been the objects of popular adulation.
Whatever pledges of allegiance had been given to the Constitution of 1812, it was clear
that this Constitution had no real hold on the nation, and that Ferdinand fulfilled the
wish of the majority of Spaniards in overthrowing it. A wise and energetic sovereign
would perhaps have allowed himself to use this outburst of religious fanaticism for the
purpose of substituting some better order for the imprudent arrangements of 1812.
Ferdinand, an ignorant, hypocritical buffoon, with no more notion of political justice or
generosity than the beasts of the field, could only substitute for the fallen Cortes a
government by palace-favourites and confessors. It was in vain, that the representatives
of Great Britain urged the King to fulfil his constitutional promises, and to liberate the
persons who had unjustly been thrown into prison. [202] The clergy were masters of
Spain and of the King: their influence daily outweighed even that of Ferdinand's own
Ministers, when, under the pressure of financial necessity, the Ministers began to offer
some resistance to the exorbitant demands of the priesthood. On the 23rd of May the
King signed an edict restoring all monasteries throughout Spain, and reinstating them
in their lands. On the 24th of June the clergy were declared exempt from taxation. On
the 21st of July the Church won its crowning triumph in the re-establishment of the
[Restoration in France.]
In comparison with the reaction in the Spanish Peninsula the reaction in France was
sober and dignified. Louis XVIII. was at least a scholar and a man of the world. In the
old days, among companions whose names were now almost forgotten, he had revelled
in Voltaire and dallied with the fashionable Liberalism of the time. In his exile he had
played the king with some dignity; he was even believed to have learnt some political
wisdom by his six years' residence in England. If he had not character, [203] he had at
least some tact and some sense of humour; and if not a profound philosopher, he was at
least an accomplished epicurean. He hated the zealotry of his brother, the Count of
Artois. He was more inclined to quiz the emigrants than to sacrifice anything on their
behalf; and the whole bent of his mind made him but an insincere ally of the
priesthood, who indeed could hardly expect to enjoy such an orgy in France as their
brethren were celebrating in Spain. The King, however, was unable to impart his own
indifference to the emigrants who returned with him, nor had he imagination enough to
identify himself, as King of France, with the military glories of the nation and with the
democratic army that had won them. Louis held high notions of the royal prerogative:
this would not in itself have prevented him from being a successful ruler, if he had been
capable of governing in the interest of the nation at large. There were few Republicans
remaining in France; the centralised institutions of the Empire remained in full vigour;
and although the last months of Napoleon's rule had excited among the educated
classes a strong spirit of constitutional opposition, an able and patriotic Bourbon
accepting his new position, and wielding power for the benefit of the people and not of
a class, might perhaps have exercised an authority not much inferior to that possessed
by the Crown before 1789. But Louis, though rational, was inexperienced and supine.
He was ready enough to admit into his Ministry and to retain in administrative posts
throughout the country men who had served under Napoleon; but when the emigrants
and the nobles, led by the Count of Artois, pushed themselves to the front of the public
service, and treated the restoration of the Bourbons as the victory of their own order,
the King offered but a faint resistance, and allowed the narrowest class-interests to
discredit a monarchy whose own better traditions identified it not with an aristocracy
but with the State.
[The Charta.]
The Constitution promulgated by King Louis XVIII. on the 4th of June, 1814, and
known as the Charta, [204] was well received by the French nation. Though far less
liberal than the Constitution accepted by Louis XVI. in 1791, it gave to the French a
measure of representative government to which they had been strangers under
Napoleon. It created two legislative chambers, the Upper House consisting of peers
who were nominated by the Crown at its pleasure, whether for life-peerages or
hereditary dignity; the Lower House formed by national election, but by election
[Encroachments of Nobles.]
Under such a Constitution there was little room for the old noblesse to arrogate to itself
any legal superiority over the mass of the French nation. What was wanting in law
might, however, in the opinion of the Count of Artois and his friends, be effected by
administration. Of all the institutions of France the most thoroughly national and the
most thoroughly democratic was the army; it was accordingly against the army that the
noblesse directed its first efforts. Financial difficulties made a large reduction in the
forces necessary. Fourteen thousand officers and sergeants were accordingly dismissed
on half-pay; but no sooner had this measure of economy been effected than a multitude
of emigrants who had served against the Republic in the army of the Prince of Condé
or in La Vendée were rewarded with all degrees of military rank. Naval officers who
had quitted the service of France and entered that of its enemies were reinstated with
the rank which they had held in foreign navies. [207] The tricolor, under which every
battle of France had been fought from Jemappes to Montmartre, was superseded by the
white flag of the House of Bourbon, under which no living soldier had marched to
victory. General Dupont, known only by his capitulation at Baylen in 1808, was
appointed Minister of War. The Imperial Guard was removed from service at the
Palace, and the so-called Military Household of the old Bourbon monarchy revived,
with the privileges and the insignia belonging to the period before 1775. Young nobles
who had never seen a shot fired crowded into this favoured corps, where the musketeer
and the trooper held the rank and the pay of a lieutenant in the army. While in every
village of France some battered soldier of Napoleon cursed the Government that had
driven him from his comrades, the Court revived at Paris all the details of military
ceremonial that could be gathered from old almanacks, from the records of
court-tailors, and from the memories of decayed gallants. As if to convince the public
that nothing had happened during the last twenty-two years, the aged Marquis de
Chansenets, who had been Governor of the Tuileries on the 10th of August, 1792, and
had then escaped by hiding among the bodies of the dead, [208] resumed his place at
the head of the officers of the Palace.
Whatever the benefits of a freely-observed day of rest, this enactment, which was not
submitted to the Chambers, passed for an arrogant piece of interference on the part of
the clergy with national habits; and while it caused no inconvenience to the rich, it
inflicted substantial loss upon a numerous and voluble class of petty traders. The
wrongs done to the French nation by the priests and emigrants who rose to power in
1814 were indeed the merest trifle in comparison with the wrongs which it had
uncomplainingly borne at the hands of Napoleon. But the glory of the Empire, the
strength and genius of its absolute rule, were gone. In its place there was a family
which had been dissociated from France during twenty years, which had returned only
to ally itself with an unpopular and dreaded caste, and to prove that even the
unexpected warmth with which it had been welcomed home could not prevent it from
becoming, at the end of a few months, utterly alien and uninteresting. The indifference
of the nation would not have endangered the Bourbon monarchy if the army had been
won over by the King. But here the Court had excited the bitterest enmity. The accord
which for a moment had seemed possible even to Republicans of the type of Carnot
had vanished at a touch. [209] Rumours of military conspiracies grew stronger with
every month. Wellington, now British Ambassador at Paris, warned his Government of
the changed feeling of the capital, of the gatherings of disbanded officers, of possible
attacks upon the Tuileries. "The truth is," he wrote, "that the King of France without
the army is no King." Wellington saw the more immediate danger: [210] he failed to
see the depth and universality of the movement passing over France, which before the
end of the year 1814 had destroyed the hold of the Bourbon monarchy except in those
provinces where it had always found support, and prepared the nation at large to
welcome back the ruler who so lately seemed to have fallen for ever.
Paris and Madrid divided for some months after the conclusion of peace the attention
of the political world. At the end of September the centre of European interest passed
to Vienna. The great council of the Powers, so long delayed, was at length assembled.
The Czar of Russia, the Kings of Prussia, Denmark, Bavaria, and Würtemberg, and
nearly all the statesmen of eminence in Europe, gathered round the Emperor Francis
and his Minister, Metternich, to whom by common consent the presidency of the
The Congress had need of its distractions, for the difficulties which faced it were so
great that, even after the arrival of the Sovereigns, it was found necessary to postpone
the opening of the regular sittings until November. By the secret articles of the Peace of
Paris, the Allies had reserved to themselves the disposal of all vacant territory, although
their conclusions required to be formally sanctioned by the Congress at large. The
Ministers of Austria, England, Prussia, and Russia accordingly determined at the outset
to decide upon all territorial questions among themselves, and only after their decisions
were completely formed to submit them to France and the other Powers. [212]
Talleyrand, on hearing of this arrangement, protested that France itself was now one of
the Allies, and demanded that the whole body of European States should at once meet
in open Congress. The four Courts held to their determination, and began their
preliminary sittings without Talleyrand. But the French statesman had, under the form
of a paradox, really stated the true political situation. The greater Powers were so
deeply divided in their aims that their old bond of common interest, the interest of
union against France, was now less powerful than the impulse that made them seek the
support of France against one another. Two men had come to the Congress with a
definite aim: Alexander had resolved to gain the Duchy of Warsaw, and to form it, with
or without some part of Russian Poland, into a Polish kingdom, attached to his own
crown: Talleyrand had determined, either on the question of Poland, or on the question
of Saxony, which arose out of it, to break allied Europe into halves, and to range
France by the side of two of the great Powers against the two others. The course of
events favoured for a while the design of the Minister: Talleyrand himself prosecuted
his plan with an ability which, but for the untimely return of Napoleon from Elba,
would have left France, without a war, the arbiter and the leading Power of Europe.
Since the Russian victories of 1812, the Emperor Alexander had made no secret of his
intention to restore a Polish Kingdom and a Polish nationality. [213] Like many other
designs of this prince, the project combined a keen desire for personal glorification
with a real generosity of feeling. Alexander was thoroughly sincere in his wish not only
to make the Poles again a people, but to give them a Parliament and a free Constitution.
The King of Poland, however, was to be no independent prince, but Alexander himself:
although the Duchy of Warsaw, the chief if not the sole component of the proposed
new kingdom, had belonged to Austria and Prussia after the last partition of Poland,
and extended into the heart of the Prussian monarchy. Alexander insisted on his anxiety
to atone for the crime of Catherine in dismembering Poland: the atonement, however,
was to be made at the sole cost of those whom Catherine had allowed to share the
booty. Among the other Governments, the Ministry of Great Britain would gladly have
seen a Polish State established in a really independent form; [214] failing this, it desired
that the Duchy of Warsaw should be divided, as formerly, between Austria and Prussia.
Metternich was anxious that the fortress of Cracow, at any rate, should not fall into the
hands of the Czar. Stein and Hardenberg, and even Alexander's own Russian
counsellors, earnestly opposed the Czar's project, not only on account of the claims of
Prussia on Warsaw, but from dread of the agitation likely to be produced by a Polish
Parliament among all Poles outside the new State. King Frederick William, however,
was unaccustomed to dispute the wishes of his ally; and the Czar's offer of Saxony in
substitution for Warsaw gave to the Prussian Ministers, who were more in earnest than
their master, at least the prospect of receiving a valuable equivalent for what they might
surrender.
[Saxon question.]
By the Treaty of Kalisch, made when Prussia united its arms with those of Russia
against Napoleon (Feb. 27th, 1813), the Czar had undertaken to restore the Prussian
monarchy to an extent equal to that which it had possessed in 1805. It was known
before the opening of the Congress that the Czar proposed to do this by handing over to
King Frederick William the whole of Saxony, whose Sovereign, unlike his colleagues
in the Rhenish Confederacy, had supported Napoleon up to his final overthrow at
Leipzig. Since that time the King of Saxony had been held a prisoner, and his
dominions had been occupied by the Allies. The Saxon question had thus already
gained the attention of all the European Governments, and each of the Ministers now at
Vienna brought with him some more or less distinct view upon the subject.
Castlereagh, who was instructed to foster the union of Prussia and Austria against
Alexander's threatening ambition, was willing that Prussia should annex Saxony if in
return it would assist him in keeping Russia out of Warsaw: [215] Metternich disliked
the annexation, but offered no serious objection, provided that in Western Germany
Prussia would keep to the north of the Main: Talleyrand alone made the defence of the
King of Saxony the very centre of his policy, and subordinated all other aims to this.
His instructions, like those of Castlereagh, gave priority to the Polish question; [216]
but Talleyrand saw that Saxony, not Poland, was the lever by which he could throw
half of Europe on to the side of France; and before the four Allied Courts had come to
any single conclusion, the French statesman had succeeded, on what at first passed for
a subordinate point, in breaking up their concert.
[Theory of Legitimacy.]
Talleyrand's object was attained. He had isolated Russia and Prussia, and had drawn to
his own side not only England and Austria but the whole body of the minor German
States. Nothing was wanting but a phrase, or an idea, which should consecrate the new
league in the opinion of Europe as a league of principle, and bind the Allies, in matters
still remaining open, to the support of the interests of the House of Bourbon.
Talleyrand had made his theory ready. In notes to Castlereagh and Metternich,[218] he
declared that the whole drama of the last twenty years had been one great struggle
between revolution and established right, a struggle at first between Republicanism and
Monarchy, afterwards between usurping dynasties and legitimate dynasties. The
overthrow of Napoleon had been the victory of the principle of legitimacy; the task of
England and Austria was now to extend the work of restitution to all Europe, and to
defend the principle against new threatened aggressions. In the note to Castlereagh,
Talleyrand added a practical corollary. "To finish the revolution, the principle of
legitimacy must triumph without exception. The kingdom of Saxony must be
preserved; the kingdom of Naples must return to its legitimate king."
It would perhaps be unfair to the French Minister to believe that he actually desired to
kindle a war on this gigantic scale. Talleyrand had not, like Napoleon, a love for war
for its own sake. His object was rather to raise France from its position as a conquered
and isolated Power; to surround it with allies; to make the House of Bourbon the
representatives of a policy interesting to a great part of Europe; and, having thus
undone the worst results of Napoleon's rule, to trust to some future complication for the
recovery of Belgium and the frontier of the Rhine. Nor was Talleyrand's German policy
adopted solely as the instrument of a passing intrigue. He appears to have had a true
sense of the capacity of Prussia to transform Germany into a great military nation; and
the policy of alliance with Austria and protection of the minor States which he pursued
in 1814 was that which he had advocated throughout his career. The conclusion of the
secret treaty of January 3rd marked the definite success of his plans. France was
forthwith admitted into the council hitherto known as that of the Four Courts, and from
this time its influence visibly affected the action of Russia and Prussia, reports of the
secret treaty having reached the Czar immediately after its signature. [221] The spirit of
compromise now began to animate the Congress. Alexander had already won a virtual
decision in his favour on the Polish question, but he abated something of his claims,
and while gaining the lion's share of the Duchy of Warsaw, he ultimately consented
that Cracow, which threatened the Austrian frontier, should be formed into an
independent Republic, and that Prussia should receive the fortresses of Dantzic and
Thorn on the Vistula, with the district lying between Thorn and the border of
Silesia.[222] This was little for Alexander to abandon; on the Saxon question the allies
of Talleyrand gained most that they demanded. The King of Saxony was restored to his
throne, and permitted to retain Dresden and about half of his dominions. Prussia
received the remainder. In lieu of a further expansion in Saxony, Prussia was awarded
territory on the left bank of the Rhine, which, with its recovered Westphalian
provinces, restored the monarchy to an area and population equal to that which it had
possessed in 1805. But the dominion given to Prussia beyond the Rhine, though
considered at the time to be a poor equivalent for the second half of Saxony, was in
reality a gift of far greater value. It made Prussia, in defence of its own soil, the
guardian and bulwark of Germany against France. It brought an element into the life of
the State in striking contrast with the aristocratic and Protestant type predominant in the
older Prussian provinces,-a Catholic population, liberal in its political opinions, and
habituated by twenty years' union with France to the democratic tendencies of French
social life. It gave to Prussia something more in common with Bavaria and the South,
and qualified it, as it had not been qualified before, for its future task of uniting
Germany under its own leadership.
The Polish and Saxon difficulties, which had threatened the peace of Europe, were
virtually settled before the end of the month of January. Early in February Lord
Castlereagh left Vienna, to give an account of his labours and to justify his policy
before the English House of Commons. His place at the Congress was taken by the
Duke of Wellington. There remained the question of Naples, the formation of a Federal
Constitution for Germany, and several matters of minor political importance, none of
which endangered the good understanding of the Powers. Suddenly the action of the
Congress was interrupted by the most startling intelligence. On the night of March 6th
Metternich was roused from sleep to receive a despatch informing him that Napoleon
had quitted Elba. The news had taken eight days to reach Vienna. Napoleon had set sail
on the 26th of February. In the silence of his exile he had watched the progress of
events in France: he had convinced himself of the strength of the popular reaction
against the priests and emigrants; and the latest intelligence which he had received
from Vienna led him to believe that the Congress itself was on the point of breaking up.
There was at least some chance of success in an attempt to regain his throne; and, the
decision once formed, Napoleon executed it with characteristic audacity and despatch.
Talleyrand, on hearing that Napoleon had left Elba, declared that he would only cross
into Italy and there raise the standard of Italian independence: instead of doing this,
Napoleon made straight for France, with the whole of his guard, eleven hundred in
number, embarked on a little flotilla of seven ships. The voyage lasted three days: no
French or English vessels capable of offering resistance met the squadron. On the 1st of
March Napoleon landed at the bay of Jouan, three miles to the west of Antibes. A
detachment of his guards called upon the commandant of Antibes to deliver up the
town to the Emperor; the commandant refused, and the troops bivouacked that evening,
with Napoleon among them, in the olive-woods by the shore of the Mediterranean.
[Moves on Grenoble.]
[Troops at La Mure.]
Before daybreak began the march that was to end in Paris. Instead of following the
coast road of Provence, which would have brought him to Toulon and Marseilles,
where most of the population were fiercely Royalist, [223] and where Massena and
other great officers might have offered resistance, Napoleon struck northwards into the
mountains, intending to descend upon Lyons by way of Grenoble. There were few
troops in this district, and no generals capable of influencing them. The peasantry of
Dauphine were in great part holders of land that had been taken from the Church and
Everything was decided by this first encounter. "In six days," said Napoleon, "we shall
be in the Tuileries." The next pledge of victory came swiftly. Colonel Labédoyère,
commander of the 7th Regiment of the Line, had openly declared for Napoleon in
Grenoble, and appeared on the road at the head of his men a few hours after the
meeting at La Mure. Napoleon reached Grenoble the same evening. The town had been
in tumult all day. The Préfet fled: the general in command sent part of his troops away,
and closed the gates. On Napoleon's approach the population thronged the ramparts
with torches; the gates were burst open; Napoleon was borne through the town in
triumph by a wild and intermingled crowd of soldiers and workpeople. The whole mass
of the poorer classes of the town welcomed him with enthusiasm: the middle classes,
though hostile to the Church and the Bourbons, saw too clearly the dangers to France
involved in Napoleon's return to feel the same joy. [224] They remained in the
background, neither welcoming Napoleon nor interfering with the welcome offered
him by others. Thus the night passed. On the morning of the next day Napoleon
received the magistrates and principal inhabitants of the town, and addressed them in
terms which formed the substance of every subsequent declaration of his policy. "He
had come," he said, "to save France from the outrages of the returning nobles; to secure
to the peasant the possession of his land; to uphold the rights won in 1789 against a
minority which sought to re-establish the privileges of caste and the feudal burdens of
the last century. France had made trial of the Bourbons: it had done well to do so; but
the experiment had failed. The Bourbon monarchy had proved incapable of detaching
itself from its worst supports, the priests and nobles: only the dynasty which owed its
throne to the Revolution could maintain the social work of the Revolution. As for
himself, he had learnt wisdom by misfortune. He renounced conquest. He should give
France peace without and liberty within. He accepted the Treaty of Paris and the
frontiers of 1792. Freed from the necessities which had forced him in earlier days to
found a military Empire, he recognised and bowed to the desire of the French nation
for constitutional government. He should henceforth govern only as a constitutional
sovereign, and seek only to leave a constitutional crown to his son."
This language was excellently chosen. It satisfied the peasants and the workmen, who
wished to see the nobles crushed, and it showed at least a comprehension of the
feelings uppermost in the minds of the wealthier and more educated middle classes, the
longing for peace, and the aspiration towards political liberty. It was also calculated to
temper the unwelcome impression that an exiled ruler was being forced upon France by
the soldiery. The military movement was indeed overwhelmingly decisive, yet the
popular movement was scarcely less so. The Royalists were furious, but impotent to
act; thoughtful men in all classes held back, with sad apprehensions of returning war
and calamity; [225] but from the time when Napoleon left Grenoble, the nation at large
was on his side. There was nowhere an effective centre of resistance. The Préfets and
other civil officers appointed under the Empire still for the most part held their posts;
they knew themselves to be threatened by the Bourbonist reaction, but they had not yet
been displaced; their professions of loyalty to Louis XVIII. were forced, their instincts
of obedience to their old master, even if they wished to have done with him, profound.
From this class, whose cowardice and servility find too many parallels in history, [226]
Napoleon had little to fear. Among the marshals and higher officers charged with the
defence of the monarchy, those who sincerely desired to serve the Bourbons found
themselves powerless in the midst of their troops. Macdonald, who commanded at
Lyons, had to fly from his men, in order to escape being made a prisoner. The Count of
Artois, who had come to join him, discovered that the only service he could render to
the cause of his family was to take himself out of sight. Napoleon entered Lyons on the
10th of March, and now formally resumed his rank and functions as Emperor. His first
edicts renewed that appeal to the ideas and passions of the Revolution which had been
the key-note of every one of his public utterances since leaving Elba. Treating the
episode of Bourbon restoration as null and void, the edicts of Lyons expelled from
France every emigrant who had returned without the permission of the Republic or the
Emperor; they drove from the army the whole mass of officers intruded by the
Government of Louis XVIII.; they invalidated every appointment and every dismissal
made in the magistracy since the 1st of April, 1814; and, reverting to the law of the
Constituent Assembly of 1789, abolished all nobility except that which had been
conferred by the Emperor himself.
[Marshal Ney.]
From this time all was over. Marshal Ney, who had set out from Paris protesting that
Napoleon deserved to be confined in an iron cage, [227] found, when at some distance
from Lyons, that the nation and army were on the side of the Emperor, and proclaimed
France was won: Europe remained behind. On the 13th of March the Ministers of all
the Great Powers, assembled at Vienna, published a manifesto denouncing Napoleon
Bonaparte as the common enemy of mankind, and declaring him an outlaw. The whole
political structure which had been reared with so much skill by Talleyrand vanished
away. France was again alone, with all Europe combined against it. Affairs reverted to
the position in which they had stood in the month of March, 1814, when the Treaty of
Chaumont was signed, which bound the Powers to sustain their armed concert against
France, if necessary, for a period of twenty years. That treaty was now formally
renewed. [228] The four great Powers undertook to employ their whole available
resources against Bonaparte until he should be absolutely unable to create disturbance,
and each pledged itself to keep permanently in the field a force of at least a hundred
and fifty thousand men. The presence of the Duke of Wellington at Vienna enabled the
Allies to decide without delay upon the general plan for their invasion of France. It was
resolved to group the allied troops in three masses; one, composed of the English and
the Prussians under Wellington and Blücher, to enter France by the Netherlands; the
two others, commanded by the Czar and Prince Schwarzenberg, to advance from the
middle and upper Rhine. Nowhere was there the least sign of political indecision. The
couriers sent by Napoleon with messages of amity to the various Courts were turned
back at the frontiers with their despatches undelivered. It was in vain for the Emperor
to attempt to keep up any illusion that peace was possible. After a brief interval he
himself acquainted France with the true resolution of his enemies. The most strenuous
efforts were made for defence. The old soldiers were called from their homes. Factories
of arms and ammunition began their hurried work in the principal towns. The Emperor
organised with an energy and a command of detail never surpassed at any period of his
life; the nature of the situation lent a new character to his genius, and evoked in the
organisation of systematic defence all that imagination and resource which had dazzled
Before Napoleon or his adversaries were ready to move, hostilities broke out in Italy.
Murat, King of Naples, had during the winter of 1814 been represented at Vienna by an
envoy: he was aware of the efforts made by Talleyrand to expel him from his throne,
and knew that the Government of Great Britain, convinced of his own treachery during
the pretended combination with the Allies in 1814, now inclined to act with France.
[230] The instinct of self-preservation led him to risk everything in raising the standard
of Italian independence, rather than await the loss of his kingdom; and the return of
Napoleon precipitated his fall. At the moment when Napoleon was about to leave Elba,
Murat, who knew his intention, asked the permission of Austria to move a body of
troops through Northern Italy for the alleged purpose of attacking the French Bourbons,
who were preparing to restore his rival, Ferdinand. Austria declared that it should treat
the entry either of French or of Neapolitan troops into Northern Italy as an act of war.
Murat, as soon as Napoleon's landing in France became known, protested to the Allies
that he intended to remain faithful to them, but he also sent assurances of friendship to
Napoleon, and forthwith invaded the Papal States. He acted without waiting for
Napoleon's instructions, and probably with the intention of winning all Italy for himself
even if Napoleon should victoriously re-establish his Empire. On the 10th of April,
Austria declared war against him. Murat pressed forward and entered Bologna, now
openly proclaiming the unity and independence of Italy. The feeling of the towns and
of the educated classes generally seemed to be in his favour, but no national rising took
place. After some indecisive encounters with the Austrians, Murat retreated. As he fell
back towards the Neapolitan frontier, his troops melted away. The enterprise ended in
swift and total ruin; and on the 22nd of May an English and Austrian force took
possession of the city of Naples in the name of King Ferdinand. Murat, leaving his
family behind him, fled to France, and sought in vain to gain a place by the side of
Napoleon in his last great struggle, and to retrieve as a soldier the honour which he had
lost as a king. [231]
In the midst of his preparations for war with all Europe, Napoleon found it necessary to
give some satisfaction to that desire for liberty which was again so strong in France. He
would gladly have deferred all political change until victory over the foreigner had
restored his own undisputed ascendency over men's minds; he was resolved at any rate
not to be harassed by a Constituent Assembly, like that of 1789, at the moment of his
greatest peril; and the action of King Louis XVIII. in granting liberty by Charta gave
him a precedent for creating a Constitution by an Edict supplementary to the existing
laws of the Empire. Among the Liberal politicians who had declared for King Louis
There would have been no difficulty in obtaining some millions of votes for any
absurdity that the Emperor might be pleased to lay before the French people; but
among the educated minority who had political theories of their own, the publication of
this reform by Edict produced the worst possible impression. No stronger evidence, it
was said, could have been given of the Emperor's insincerity than the dictatorial form
in which he affected to bestow liberty upon France. Scarcely a voice was raised in
favour of the new Constitution. The measure had in fact failed of its effect. Napoleon's
object was to excite an enthusiasm that should lead the entire nation, the educated
classes as well as the peasantry, to rally round him in a struggle with the foreigner for
life or death: he found, on the contrary, that he had actually injured his cause. The
hostility of public opinion was so serious that Napoleon judged it wise to make
advances to the Liberal party, and sent his brother Joseph to Lafayette, to ascertain on
what terms he might gain his support. [233] Lafayette, strongly condemning the form of
the Acte Additionnel, stated that the Emperor could only restore public confidence by
immediately convoking the Chambers. This was exactly what Napoleon desired to
avoid, until he had defeated the English and Prussians; nor in fact had the vote of the
nation accepting the new Constitution yet been given. But the urgency of the need
overcame the Emperor's inclinations and the forms of law. Lafayette's demand was
granted: orders were issued for an immediate election, and the meeting of the
Chambers fixed for the beginning of June, a few days earlier than the probable
departure of the Emperor to open hostilities on the northern frontier.
Lafayette's counsel had been given in sincerity, but Napoleon gained little by following
it. The nation at large had nothing of the faith in the elections which was felt by
Lafayette and his friends. In some places not a single person appeared at the poll: in
most, the candidates were elected by a few scores of voters. The Royalists absented
themselves on principle: the population generally thought only of the coming war, and
let the professed politicians conduct the business of the day by themselves. Among the
deputies chosen there were several who had sat in the earlier Assemblies of the
Revolution; and, mingled with placemen and soldiers of the Empire, a considerable
body of men whose known object was to reduce Napoleon's power. One interest alone
was unrepresented-that of the Bourbon family, which so lately seemed to have been
called to the task of uniting the old and the new France around itself.
[Champ de Mai.]
Napoleon, troubling himself little about the elections, laboured incessantly at his
preparations for war, and by the end of May two hundred thousand men were ready to
take the field. The delay of the Allies, though necessary, enabled their adversary to take
up the offensive. It was the intention of the Emperor to leave a comparatively small
force to watch the eastern frontier, and himself, at the head of a hundred and
twenty-five thousand men, to fall upon Wellington and Blücher in the Netherlands, and
crush them before they could unite their forces. With this object the greater part of the
army was gradually massed on the northern roads at points between Paris, Lille, and
Maubeuge. Two acts of State remained to be performed by the Emperor before he
quitted the capital; the inauguration of the new Constitution and the opening of the
Chambers of Legislature. The first, which had been fixed for the 26th of May, and
announced as a revival of the old Frankish Champ de Mai, was postponed till the
beginning of the following month. On the 1st of June the solemnity was performed
with extraordinary pomp and splendour, on that same Champ de Mars where,
twenty-five years before, the grandest and most affecting of all the festivals of the
Revolution, the Act of Federation, had been celebrated by King Louis XVI. and his
people. Deputations from each of the constituencies of France, from the army, and
from every public body, surrounded the Emperor in a great amphitheatre enclosed at
the southern end of the plain: outside there were ranged twenty thousand soldiers of the
Guard and other regiments; and behind them spread the dense crowd of Paris. When
the total of the votes given in the Plébiscite had been summed up and declared, the
Emperor took the oath to the Constitution, and delivered one of his masterpieces of
political rhetoric. The great officers of State took the oath in their turn: mass was
celebrated, and Napoleon, leaving the enclosed space, then presented their standards to
the soldiery in the Champ de Mars, addressing some brief, soul-stirring word to each
regiment as it passed. The spectacle was magnificent, but except among the soldiers
themselves a sense of sadness and disappointment passed over the whole assembly.
The speech of the Emperor showed that he was still the despot at heart: the applause
was forced: all was felt to be ridiculous, all unreal. [234]
[Plan of Napoleon.]
The opening of the Legislative Chambers took place a few days later, and on the night
of the 11th of June Napoleon started for the northern frontier. The situation of the
forces opposed to him in this his last campaign strikingly resembled that which had
On the night of the 13th of June, the French army, numbering a hundred and
twenty-nine thousand men, had completed its concentration, and lay gathered round
Beaumont and Philippeville. Wellington was at Brussels; his troops, which consisted of
thirty-five thousand English and about sixty thousand Dutch, Germans, and Belgians,
[236] guarded the country west of the Charleroi road as far as Oudenarde on the Scheldt.
Blücher's headquarters were at Namur; he had a hundred and twenty thousand
Prussians under his command, who were posted between Charleroi, Namur, and Liège.
Both the English and Prussian generals were aware that very large French forces had
been brought close to the frontier, but Wellington imagined Napoleon to be still in
Paris, and believed that the war would be opened by a forward movement of Prince
Schwarzenberg into Alsace. It was also his fixed conviction that if Napoleon entered
Belgium he would throw himself not upon the Allied centre, but upon the extreme right
of the English towards the sea. [237] In the course of the 14th, the Prussian outposts
reported that the French were massed round Beaumont: later in the same day there
were clear signs of an advance upon Charleroi. Early next morning the attack on
Charleroi began. The Prussians were driven out of it, and retreated in the direction of
Ligny, whither Blücher now brought up all the forces within his reach. It was unknown
to Wellington until the afternoon of the 15th that the French had made any movement
whatever: on receiving the news of their advance, he ordered a concentrating
movement of all his forces eastward, in order to cover the road to Brussels and to
co-operate with the Prussian general. A small division of the British army took post at
Quatre Bras that night, and on the morning of the 16th Wellington himself rode to
Ligny, and promised his assistance to Blücher, whose troops were already drawn up
and awaiting the attack of the French.
But the march of the invader was too rapid for the English to reach the field of battle.
Already, on returning to Quatre Bras in the afternoon, Wellington found his own troops
hotly engaged. Napoleon had sent Ney along the road to Brussels to hold the English in
check and, if possible, to enter the capital, while he himself, with seventy thousand
men, attacked Blücher. The Prussian general had succeeded in bringing up a force
superior in number to his assailants; but the French army, which consisted in a great
part of veterans recalled to the ranks, was of finer quality than any that Napoleon had
led since the campaign of Moscow, and it was in vain that Blücher and his soldiers met
At Quatre Bras the issue of the day was unfavourable to the French. Ney missed his
opportunity of seizing this important point before it was occupied by the British in any
force; and when the battle began the British infantry-squares unflinchingly bore the
attack of Ney's cavalry, and drove them back again and again with their volleys, until
successive reinforcements had made the numbers on both sides even. At the close of
the day the French marshal, baffled and disheartened, drew back his troops to their
original position. The army-corps of General d'Erlon, which Napoleon had placed
between himself and Ney in order that it might act wherever there was the greatest
need, was first withdrawn from Ney to assist at Ligny, and then, as it was entering into
action at Ligny, recalled to Quatre Bras, where it arrived only after the battle was over.
Its presence in either field would probably have altered the issue of the campaign.
[Prussian movement.]
Blücher, on the night of the 16th, lay disabled and almost senseless; his lieutenant,
Gneisenau, not only saved the army, but repaired, and more than repaired, all its losses
by a memorable movement northwards that brought the Prussians again into
communication with the British. Napoleon, after an unexplained inaction during the
night of the 16th and the morning of the 17th, committed the pursuit of the Prussians to
Marshal Grouchy, ordering him never to let the enemy out of his sight; but Blücher and
Gneisenau had already made their escape, and had concentrated so large a body in the
neighbourhood of Wavre, that Grouchy could not now have prevented a force superior
to his own from uniting with the English, even if he had known the exact movements of
each of the three armies, and, with a true presentiment of his master's danger, had
attempted to rejoin him on the morrow.
Wellington, who had both anticipated that Blücher would be beaten at Ligny, and
assured himself that the Prussian would make good his retreat northwards, moved on
the 17th from Quatre Bras to Waterloo, now followed by Napoleon and the mass of the
French army. At Waterloo he drew up for battle, trusting to the promise of the gallant
Prussian that he would advance in that direction on the following day. Blücher, in so
doing, exposed himself to the risk of having his communications severed and half his
army captured, if Napoleon should either change the direction of his main attack and
bend eastwards, or should crush Wellington before the arrival of the Prussians, and
seize the road from Brussels to Louvain with a victorious force. Such considerations
would have driven a commander like Schwarzenberg back to Liège, but they were
thrown to the winds by Blücher and Gneisenau. In just reliance on his colleague's
energy, Wellington, with thirty thousand English and forty thousand Dutch, Germans,
At eleven o'clock on Sunday, the 18th of June, the battle began. Napoleon, unconscious
of the gathering of the Prussians on his right, and unacquainted with the obstinacy of
English troops, believed the victory already thrown into his hands by Wellington's
hardihood. His plan was to burst through the left of the English line near La Haye
Sainte, and thus to drive Wellington westwards and place the whole French army
between its two defeated enemies. The first movement was an assault on the buildings
of Hugomont, made for the purpose of diverting Wellington from the true point of
attack. The English commander sent detachments to this outpost sufficient to defend it,
but no more. After two hours' indecisive fighting and a heavy cannonade, Ney ordered
D'Erlon's corps forward to the great onslaught on the centre and left. As the French
column pressed up the slope, General Picton charged at the head of a brigade. The
English leader was among the first to fall, but his men drove the enemy back, and at the
same time the Scots Greys, sweeping down from the left, cut right through both the
French infantry and their cavalry supports, and, charging far up the opposite slope,
reached and disabled forty of Ney's guns, before they were in their turn overpowered
and driven back by the French dragoons. The English lost heavily, but the onslaught of
the enemy had totally failed, and thousands of prisoners remained behind. There was a
pause in the infantry combat; and again the artillery of Napoleon battered the English
centre, while Ney marshalled fresh troops for a new and greater effort. About two
o'clock the attack was renewed on the left. La Haye Sainte was carried, and vast masses
of cavalry pressed up the English slope, and rode over the plateau to the very front of
the English line. Wellington sent no cavalry to meet them, but trusted, and trusted
justly, to the patience and endurance of the infantry themselves, who, hour after hour,
held their ground, unmoved by the rush of the enemy's horse and the terrible spectacle
of havoc and death in their own ranks; for all through the afternoon the artillery of
Napoleon poured its fire wherever the line was left open, or the assault of the French
cavalry rolled back.
At last the approach of the Prussians visibly told. Napoleon had seen their vanguard
early in the day, and had detached Count Lobau with seven thousand men to hold them
in check; but the little Prussian corps gradually swelled to an army, and as the day wore
on it was found necessary to reinforce Count Lobau with some of the finest divisions of
the French infantry. Still reports came in of new Prussian columns approaching. At six
o'clock Napoleon prepared to throw his utmost strength into one grand final attack
upon the British, and to sweep them away before the battle became general with their
allies. Two columns of the Imperial Guard, supported by every available regiment,
moved from the right and left towards the English centre. The column on the right,
unchecked by the storm of Wellington's cannon-shot from front and flank, pushed to
the very ridge of the British slope, and came within forty yards of the cross-road where
the English Guard lay hidden. Then Wellington gave the order to fire. The French
[Napoleon at Paris.]
Napoleon fled to Philippeville, and made some ineffectual attempts both there and at
Laon to fix a rallying point for his vanished forces. From Laon he hastened to Paris,
which he reached at sunrise on the 21st. His bulletin describing the defeat of Waterloo
was read to the Chambers on the same morning. The Lower House immediately
declared against the Emperor, and demanded his abdication. Unless Napoleon seized
the dictatorship his cause was lost. Carnot and Lucien Bonaparte urged him to dismiss
the Chambers and to stake all on his own strong will; but they found no support among
the Emperor's counsellors. On the next day Napoleon abdicated in favour of his son.
But it was in vain that he attempted to impose an absent successor upon France, and to
maintain his own Ministers in power. It was equally in vain that Carnot, filled with the
memories of 1793, called upon the Assembly to continue the war and to provide for the
defence of Paris. A Provisional Government entered upon office. Days were spent in
inaction and debate while the Allies advanced through France. On the 28th of June, the
Prussians appeared on the north of the capital; and, as the English followed, they
moved to the south of the Seine, out of the range of the fortifications with which
Napoleon had covered the side of St. Denis and Montmartre. Davoust, with almost all
the generals in Paris, declared defence to be impossible. On the 3rd of July, a
capitulation was signed. The remnants of the French army were required to withdraw
beyond the Loire. The Provisional Government dissolved itself; the Allied troops
entered the capital and on the following day the Members of the Chamber of Deputies,
on arriving at their Hall of Assembly, found the gates closed, and a detachment of
soldiers in possession. France was not, even as a matter of form, consulted as to its
future government. Louis XVIII. was summarily restored to his throne. Napoleon, who
had gone to Rochefort with the intention of sailing to the United States, lingered at
Rochefort until escape was no longer possible, and then embarked on the British ship
Bellerophon, commending himself, as a second Themistocles, to the generosity of the
Prince Regent of England. He who had declared that the lives of a million men were
nothing to him [238] trusted to the folly or the impotence of the English nation to
provide him with some agreeable asylum until he could again break loose and deluge
Europe with blood. But the lesson of 1814 had been learnt. Some island in the ocean
far beyond the equator formed the only prison for a man whom no European sovereign
could venture to guard, and whom no fortress-walls could have withdrawn from the
attention of mankind. Napoleon was conveyed to St. Helena. There, until at the end of
Victory had come so swiftly that the Allied Governments were unprepared with terms
of peace. The Czar and the Emperor of Austria were still at Heidelberg when the battle
of Waterloo was fought; they had advanced no further than Nancy when the news
reached them that Paris had surrendered. Both now hastened to the capital, where
Wellington was already exercising the authority to which his extraordinary successes as
well as his great political superiority over all the representatives of the Allies then
present, entitled him. Before the entry of the English and Prussian troops into Paris he
had persuaded Louis XVIII. to sever himself from the party of reaction by calling to
office the regicide Fouché, head of the existing Provisional Government. Fouché had
been guilty of the most atrocious crimes at Lyons in 1793; he had done some of the
worst work of each succeeding government in France; and, after returning to his old
place as Napoleon's Minister of Police during the Hundred Days, he had intrigued as
early as possible for the restoration of Louis XVIII., if indeed he had not held
treasonable communication with the enemy during the campaign. His sole claim to
power was that every gendarme and every informer in France had at some time acted as
his agent, and that, as a regicide in office, he might possibly reconcile Jacobins and
Bonapartists to the second return of the Bourbon family. Such was the man whom, in
association with Talleyrand, the Duke of Wellington found himself compelled to
propose as Minister to Louis XVIII. The appointment, it was said, was humiliating, but
it was necessary; and with the approval of the Count of Artois the King invited this
blood-stained eavesdropper to an interview and placed him in office. Need subdued the
scruples of the courtiers: it could not subdue the resentment of that grief-hardened
daughter of Louis XVI. whom Napoleon termed the only man of her family. The
Duchess of Angoulême might have forgiven the Jacobin Fouché the massacres at
Lyons: she refused to speak to a Minister whom she termed one of the murderers of her
father.
Fouché had entered into a private negotiation with Wellington while the English were
on the outskirts of Paris, and while the authorised envoys of the Assembly were
engaged elsewhere. Wellington's motive for recommending him to the King was the
indifference or hostility felt by some of the Allies to Louis XVIII. personally, which
led the Duke to believe that if Louis did not regain his throne before the arrival of the
sovereigns he might never regain it at all. [239] Fouché was the one man who could at
that moment throw open the road to the Tuileries. If his overtures were rejected, he
might either permit Carnot to offer some desperate resistance outside Paris, or might
retire himself with the army and the Assembly beyond the Loire, and there set up a
Republican Government. With Fouché and Talleyrand united in office under Louis
XVIII., there was no fear either of a continuance of the war or of the suggestion of a
change of dynasty on the part of any of the Allies. By means of the Duke's independent
action Louis XVIII. was already in possession when the Czar arrived at Paris, and
nothing now prevented the definite conclusion of peace but the disagreement of the
Allies themselves as to the terms to be exacted. Prussia, which had suffered so bitterly
from Napoleon, demanded that Europe should not a second time deceive itself with the
hollow guarantee of a Bourbon restoration, but should gain a real security for peace by
[Prussia isolated.]
The arguments for and against the severance of the border-provinces from France were
drawn at great length by diplomatists, but all that was essential in them was capable of
being very briefly put. On the one side, it was urged by Stein and Hardenberg that the
restoration of the Bourbons in 1814 with an undiminished territory had not prevented
France from placing itself at the end of a few months under the rule of the military
despot whose life was one series of attacks on his neighbours: that the expectation of
long-continued peace, under whatever dynasty, was a vain one so long as the French
possessed a chain of fortresses enabling them at any moment to throw large armies into
Germany or the Netherlands: and finally, that inasmuch as Germany, and not England
or Russia, was exposed to these irruptions, Germany had the first right to have its
interests consulted in providing for the public security. On the other side, it was argued
by the Emperor Alexander, and with far greater force by the Duke of Wellington, [241]
that the position of the Bourbons would be absolutely hopeless if their restoration,
besides being the work of foreign armies, was accompanied by the loss of French
provinces: that the French nation, although it had submitted to Napoleon, had not as a
matter of fact offered the resistance to the Allies which it was perfectly capable of
offering: and that the danger of any new aggressive or revolutionary movement might
be effectually averted by keeping part of France occupied by the Allied forces until the
nation had settled down into tranquillity under an efficient government. Notes
embodying these arguments were exchanged between the Ministers of the great Powers
during the months of July and August. The British Cabinet, which had at first inclined
to the Prussian view, accepted the calm judgment of Wellington, and transferred itself
to the side of the Czar. Metternich went with the majority. Hardenberg, thus left alone,
abandoned point after point in his demands, and consented at last that France should
cede little more than the border-strips which had been added by the Peace of 1814 to its
frontier of 1791. Chambéry and the rest of French Savoy, Landau and Saarlouis on the
German side, Philippeville and some other posts on the Belgian frontier, were fixed
upon as the territory to be surrendered. The resolution of the Allied Governments was
made known to Louis XVIII. towards the end of September. Negotiation on details
dragged on for two months more, while France itself underwent a change of Ministry;
and the definitive Treaty of Peace, known as the second Treaty of Paris, was not signed
until November the 20th. France escaped without substantial loss of territory; it was,
however, compelled to pay indemnities amounting in all to about £40,000,000; to
consent to the occupation of its northern provinces by an Allied force of 150,000 men
for a period not exceeding five years; and to defray the cost of this occupation out of its
own revenues. The works of art taken from other nations, which the Allies had allowed
France to retain in 1814, had already been restored to their rightful owners. No act of
the conquerors in 1815 excited more bitter or more unreasonable complaint.
It was in the interval between the entry of the Allies into Paris and the definitive
conclusion of peace that a treaty was signed which has gained a celebrity in singular
contrast with its real insignificance, the Treaty of Holy Alliance. Since the terrible
events of 1812 the Czar's mind had taken a strongly religious tinge. His private life
continued loose as before; his devotion was both very well satisfied with itself and a
prey to mysticism and imposture in others; but, if alloyed with many weaknesses, it
was at least sincere, and, like Alexander's other feelings, it naturally sought expression
in forms which seemed theatrical to stronger natures. Alexander had rendered many
public acts of homage to religion in the intervals of diplomatic and military success in
the year 1814; and after the second capture of Paris he drew up a profession of
religious and political faith, embodying, as he thought, those high principles by which
the Sovereigns of Europe, delivered from the iniquities of Napoleon, were henceforth
to maintain the reign of peace and righteousness on earth.[242] This document, which
resembled the pledge of a religious brotherhood, formed the draft of the Treaty of the
Holy Alliance. The engagement, as one binding on the conscience, was for the
consideration of the Sovereigns alone, not of their Ministers; and in presenting it to the
Emperor Francis and King Frederick William, the Czar is said to have acted with an air
of great mystery. The King of Prussia, a pious man, signed the treaty in seriousness; the
Emperor of Austria, who possessed a matter-of-fact humour, said that if the paper
related to doctrines of religion, he must refer it to his confessor, if to secrets of State, to
Prince Metternich. What the confessor may have thought of the Czar's political evangel
is not known: the opinion delivered by the Minister was not a sympathetic one. "It is
verbiage," said Metternich; and his master, though unwillingly, signed the treaty. With
England the case was still worse. As the Prince Regent was not in Paris, Alexander had
to confide the articles of the Holy Alliance to Lord Castlereagh. Of all things in the
world the most incomprehensible to Castlereagh was religious enthusiasm. "The fact
is," he wrote home to the English Premier, "that the Emperor's mind is not completely
sound." [243] Apart, however, from the Czar's sanity or insanity, it was impossible for
the Prince Regent, or for any person except the responsible Minister, to sign a treaty,
whether it meant anything or nothing, in the name of Great Britain. Castlereagh was in
great perplexity. On the one hand, he feared to wound a powerful ally; on the other, he
dared not violate the forms of the Constitution. A compromise was invented. The
Treaty of the Holy Alliance was not graced with the name of the Prince Regent, but the
Czar received a letter declaring that his principles had the personal approval of this
great authority on religion and morality. The Kings of Naples and Sardinia were the
next to subscribe, and in due time the names of the witty glutton, Louis XVIII., and of
the abject Ferdinand of Spain were added. Two potentates alone received no invitation
from the Czar to enter the League: the Pope, because he possessed too much authority
within the Christian Church, and the Sultan, because he possessed none at all.
[German Federation.]
Thus terminated, certainly without any undue severity, yet not without some loss to the
conquered nation, the work of 1815 in France. In the meantime the Congress of
Vienna, though interrupted by the renewal of war, had resumed and completed its
labours. One subject of the first importance remained unsettled when Napoleon
returned, the federal organisation of Germany. This work had been referred by the
Powers in the autumn of 1814 to a purely German committee, composed of the
representatives of Austria and Prussia and of three of the Minor States; but the first
meetings of the committee only showed how difficult was the problem, and how little
the inclination in most quarters to solve it. The objects with which statesmen like Stein
demanded an effective federation were thoroughly plain and practical. They sought, in
the first place, that Germany should be rendered capable of defending itself against the
foreigner; and in the second place, that the subjects of the minor princes, who had been
made absolute rulers by Napoleon, should now be guaranteed against despotic
oppression. To secure Germany from being again conquered by France, it was
necessary that the members of the League, great and small, should abandon something
of their separate sovereignty, and create a central authority with the sole right of
making war and alliances. To protect the subjects of the minor princes from the abuse
of power, it was necessary that certain definite civil rights and a measure of
representative government should be assured by Federal Law to the inhabitants of
every German State, and enforced by the central authority on the appeal of subjects
against their Sovereigns. There was a moment when some such form of German union
had seemed to be close at hand, the moment when Prussia began its final struggle with
Napoleon, and the commander of the Czar's army threatened the German vassals of
France with the loss of their thrones (Feb., 1813). But even then no statesman had
satisfied himself how Prussia and Austria were to unite in submission to a Federal
Government; and from the time when Austria made terms with the vassal princes little
hope of establishing a really effective authority at the centre of Germany remained.
German affairs, as usual, were the last to be settled at the Congress; when these were at
length disposed of, the Congress embodied the entire mass of its resolutions in one
great Final Act [246] of a hundred and twenty-one articles, which was signed a few
days before the battle of Waterloo was fought. This Act, together with the second
Treaty of Paris, formed the public law with which Europe emerged from the warfare of
a quarter of a century, and entered upon a period which proved, even more than it was
expected to prove, one of long-lasting peace. Standing on the boundary-line between
two ages, the legislation of Vienna forms a landmark in history. The provisions of the
Congress have sometimes been criticised as if that body had been an assemblage of
philosophers, bent only on advancing the course of human progress, and endowed with
the power of subduing the selfish impulses of every Government in Europe. As a
matter of fact the Congress was an arena where national and dynastic interests
struggled for satisfaction by every means short of actual war. To inquire whether the
Congress accomplished all that it was possible to accomplish for Europe is to inquire
whether Governments at that moment forgot all their own ambitions and opportunities,
and thought only of the welfare of mankind. Russia would not have given up Poland
without war; Austria would not have given up Lombardy and Venice without war. The
only measures of 1814-15 in which the common interest was really the dominant
motive were those adopted either with the view of strengthening the States immediately
exposed to attack by France, or in the hope of sparing France itself the occasion for
new conflicts. The union of Holland and Belgium, and the annexation of the Genoese
Republic to Sardinia, were the means adopted for the former end; for the latter, the
relinquishment of all claims to Alsace and Lorraine. These were the measures in which
the statesmen of 1814-15 acted with their hands free, and by these their foresight may
fairly be judged. Of the union of Belgium to Holland it is not too much to say that,
although planned by Pitt, and treasured by every succeeding Ministry as one of his
wisest schemes, it was wholly useless and inexpedient. The tranquillity of Western
Europe was preserved during fifteen years, not by yoking together discordant
But if the policy of 1814-15 in the affairs of Belgium and Piedmont only proves how
little an average collection of statesmen can see into the future, the policy which, in
spite of Waterloo, left France in possession of an undiminished territory, does no
discredit to the foresight, as it certainly does the highest honour to the justice and
forbearance of Wellington, whose counsels then turned the scale. The wisdom of the
resolution has indeed been frequently impugned. German statesmen held then, and
have held ever since, that the opportunity of disarming France once for all of its
weapons of attack was wantonly thrown away. Hardenberg, when his arguments for
annexation of the frontier-fortresses were set aside, predicted that streams of blood
would hereafter flow for the conquest of Alsace and Lorraine, [248] and his prediction
has been fulfilled. Yet no one perhaps would have been more astonished than
Hardenberg himself, could he have known that fifty-five years of peace between France
and Prussia would precede the next great struggle. When the same period of peace shall
have followed the acquisition of Metz and Strasburg by Prussia, it will be time to
condemn the settlement of 1815 as containing the germ of future wars; till then, the
effects of that settlement in maintaining peace are entitled to recognition. It is
impossible to deny that the Allies, in leaving to France the whole of its territory in
1815, avoided inflicting the most galling of all tokens of defeat upon a spirited and still
most powerful nation. The loss of Belgium and the frontier of the Rhine was keenly
enough felt for thirty years to come, and made no insignificant part of the French
people ready at any moment to rush into war; how much greater the power of the
war-cry, how hopeless the task of restraint, if to the other motives for war there had
been added the liberation of two of the most valued provinces of France. Without this
the danger was great enough. Thrice at least in the next thirty years the balance seemed
to be turning against the continuance of peace. An offensive alliance between France
and Russia was within view when the Bourbon monarchy fell; the first years of Louis
Philippe all but saw the revolutionary party plunge France into war for Belgium and for
Italy; ten years later the dismissal of a Ministry alone prevented the outbreak of
hostilities on the distant affairs of Syria. Had Alsace and Lorraine at this time been in
the hands of disunited Germany, it is hard to believe that the Bourbon dynasty would
not have averted, or sought to avert, its fall by a popular war, or that the victory of
Louis Philippe over the war-party, difficult even when there was no French soil to
reconquer, would have been possible. The time indeed came when a new Bonaparte
turned to enterprises of aggression the resources which Europe had left unimpaired to
his country; but to assume that the cessions proposed in 1815 would have made France
unable to move, with or without allies, half a century afterwards, is to make a confident
guess in a doubtful matter; and, with Germany in the condition in which it remained
after 1815, it is at least as likely that the annexation of Alsace and Lorraine would have
led to the early reconquest of the Rhenish provinces by France, or to a war between
Austria and Prussia, as that it would have prolonged the period of European peace
beyond that distant limit which it actually reached.
Among the subjects which were pressed upon the Congress of Vienna there was one in
which the pursuit of national interests and calculations of policy bore no part, the
abolition of the African slave-trade. The British people, who, after twenty years of
combat in the cause of Europe, had earned so good a right to ask something of their
allies, probably attached a deeper importance to this question than to any in the whole
range of European affairs, with the single exception of the personal overthrow of
Napoleon. Since the triumph of Wiberforce's cause in the Parliament of 1807, and the
extinction of English slave-traffic, the anger with which the nation viewed this
detestable cruelty, too long tolerated by itself, had become more and more vehement
and widespread. By the year 1814 the utterances of public opinion were so loud and
urgent that the Government, though free from enthusiasm itself, was forced to place the
international prohibition of the slave-trade in the front rank of its demands. There were
politicians on the Continent credulous enough to believe that this outcry of the heart
and the conscience of the nation was but a piece of commercial hypocrisy. Talleyrand,
with far different insight, but not with more sympathy, spoke of the state of the English
people as one of frenzy. [249] Something had already been effected at foreign courts.
Sweden had been led to prohibit slave-traffic in 1813, Holland in the following year.
Portugal had been restrained by treaty from trading north of the line. France had
pledged itself in the first Treaty of Paris to abolish the commerce within five years.
Spain alone remained unfettered, and it was indeed intolerable that the English slavers
should have been forced to abandon their execrable gains only that they should fall into
the hands of the subjects of King Ferdinand. It might be true that the Spanish colonies
required a larger supply of slaves than they possessed; but Spain had at any rate not the
excuse that it was asked to surrender an old and profitable branch of commerce. It was
solely through the abolition of the English slave-trade that Spain possessed any
slave-trade whatever. Before the year 1807 no Spanish ship had been seen on the coast
of Africa for a century, except one in 1798 fitted out by Godoy. [250] As for the French
trade, that had been extinguished by the capture of Senegal and Goree; and along the
two thousand miles of coast from Cape Blanco to Cape Formosa a legitimate
commerce with the natives was gradually springing up in place of the desolating traffic
in flesh and blood. It was hoped by the English people that Castlereagh would succeed
in obtaining a universal and immediate prohibition of the slave-trade by all the Powers
assembled at Vienna. The Minister was not wanting in perseverance, but he failed to
achieve this result. France, while claiming a short delay elsewhere, professed itself
willing, like Portugal, to abolish at once the traffic north of the line; but the
Government on which England had perhaps the greatest claim, that of Spain, absolutely
refused to accept this restriction, or to bind itself to a final prohibition before the end of
eight years. Castlereagh then proposed that a Council of Ambassadors at London and
Paris should be charged with the international duty of expediting the close of the
slave-trade; the measure which he had in view being the punishment of slave-dealing
The work was carried a step further by Napoleon's return from Elba. Napoleon
understood the impatience of the English people, and believed that he could make no
higher bid for its friendship than by abandoning the reserves made by Talleyrand at the
Congress, and abolishing the French slave-trade at once and for all. This was
accomplished; and the Bourbon ally of England, on his second restoration could not
undo what had been done by the usurper. Spain and Portugal alone continued to
pursue-the former country without restriction, the latter on the south of the line-a
commerce branded by the united voice of Europe as infamous. The Governments of
these countries alleged in their justification that Great Britain itself had resisted the
passing of the prohibitory law until its colonies were far better supplied with slaves
than those of its rivals now were. This was true, but it was not the whole truth. The
whole truth was not known, the sincerity of English feeling was not appreciated, until,
twenty years later, the nation devoted a part of its wealth to release the slave from
servitude, and the English race from the reproach of slave holding. Judged by the West
Indian Emancipation of 1833, the Spanish appeal to English history sounds almost
ludicrous. But the remembrance of the long years throughout which the advocates of
justice encountered opposition in England should temper the severity of our
condemnation of the countries which still defended a bad interest. The light broke late
upon ourselves: the darkness that still lingered elsewhere had too long been our own.
CHAPTER XIII.
For nearly twenty years the career of Bonaparte had given to European history the
unity of interest which belongs to a single life. This unity does not immediately
disappear on the disappearance of his mighty figure. The Powers of Europe had been
too closely involved in the common struggle, their interests were too deeply concerned
in the maintenance of the newly-established order, for the thoughts of Governments to
be withdrawn from foreign affairs, and the currents of national policy to fall at once
apart into separate channels. The Allied forces continued to occupy France with
Wellington as commander-in-chief; the defence of the Bourbon monarchy had been
declared the cause of Europe at large; the conditions under which the numbers of the
army of occupation might be reduced, or the period of occupation shortened, remained
to be fixed by the Allies themselves. France thus formed the object of a common
European deliberation; nor was the concert of the Powers without its peculiar organ.
An International Council was created at Paris, consisting of the Ambassadors of the
four great Courts. The forms of a coalition were, for the first time, preserved after the
conclusion of peace. Communications were addressed to the Government of Louis
XVIII., in the name of all the Powers together. The Council of Ambassadors met at
regular intervals, and not only transacted business relating to the army of occupation
and the payment of indemnities, but discussed the domestic policy of the French
Government, and the situation of parties or the signs of political opinion in the
Assembly and the nation.
In thus watching over the restored Bourbon monarchy, the Courts of Europe were
doing no more than they had bound themselves to do by treaty. Paris, however, was not
the only field for a busy diplomacy. In most of the minor capitals of Europe each of the
Great Powers had its own supposed interests to pursue, or its own principles of
government to inculcate. An age of transition seemed to have begun. Constitutions had
been promised in many States, and created in some; in Spain and in Sicily they had
reached the third stage, that of suppression. It was not likely that the statesmen who had
succeeded to Napoleon's power in Europe should hold themselves entirely aloof from
the affairs of their weaker neighbours, least of all when a neighbouring agitation might
endanger themselves. In one respect the intentions of the British, the Austrian, and the
Russian Governments were identical, and continued to be so, namely, in the
determination to countenance no revolutionary movement. Revolution, owing to the
experience of 1793, had come to be regarded as synonymous with aggressive warfare.
Jacobins, anarchists, disturbers of the public peace, were only different names for one
and the same class of international criminals, who were indeed indigenous to France,
but might equally endanger the peace of mankind in other countries. Against these
fomenters of mischief all the Courts were at one.
[Alexander.]
[Metternich.]
[In Italy.]
In the eyes of Prince Metternich, the all-powerful Minister of Austria, Alexander was
little better than a Jacobin. The Austrian State, though its frontiers had been five times
changed since 1792, had continued in a remarkable degree free from the impulse to
internal change. The Emperor Francis was the personification of resistance to progress;
the Minister owed his unrivalled position not more to his own skilful statesmanship in
the great crisis of 1813 than to a genuine accord with the feelings of his master. If
Francis was not a man of intellect, Metternich was certainly a man of character; and for
a considerable period they succeeded in impressing the stamp of their own
strongly-marked Austrian policy upon Europe. The force of their influence sprang from
no remote source; it was due mainly to a steady intolerance of all principles not their
own. Metternich described his system with equal simplicity and precision as an attempt
neither to innovate nor to go back to the past, but to keep things as they were. In the old
Austrian dominions this was not difficult to do, for things had no tendency to move and
remained fixed of themselves; [253] but on the outside, both on the north and on the
south, ideas were at work which, according to Metternich, ought never to have entered
the world, but, having unfortunately gained admittance, made it the task of
On this system, backed by great military force, there was nothing to fear from the
malcontents of Lombardy and Venice: it remained for Metternich to extend the same
security to the rest of the peninsula, and by a series of treaties to effect the double end
of exterminating constitutional government and of establishing an Austrian Protectorate
over the entire country, from the Alps to the Sicilian Straits. The design was so
ambitious that Metternich had not dared to disclose it at the Congress of Vienna; it was
in fact a direct violation of the Treaty of Paris, and of the resolution of the Congress,
that Italy, outside the possessions of Austria, should consist of independent States. The
first Sovereign over whom the net was cast was Ferdinand of Naples. On the 15th of
June, 1815, immediately after the overthrow of Murat, King Ferdinand signed a Treaty
of Alliance with Austria, which contained a secret clause, pledging the King to
introduce no change into his recovered kingdom inconsistent with its own old
monarchical principles, or with the principles which had been adopted by the Emperor
of Austria for the government of his Italian provinces. [255] Ferdinand, two years
before, had been compelled by Great Britain to grant Sicily a Constitution, and was at
this very moment promising one to Naples. The Sicilian Constitution was now tacitly
condemned; the Neapolitans were duped. By a further secret clause, the two
contracting Sovereigns undertook to communicate to one another everything that
should come to their knowledge affecting the security and tranquillity of the Italian
peninsula; in other words, the spies and the police of Ferdinand were now added to
Metternich's staff in Lombardy. Tuscany, Modena, and Parma entered into much the
same condition of vassalage; but the scheme for a universal federation of Italy under
Austria's leadership failed through the resistance of Piedmont and of the Pope. Pius
VII. resented the attempts of Austria, begun in 1797 and repeated at the Congress of
The part played by the British Government at this epoch has been severely judged not
only by the later opinion of England itself, but by the historical writers of almost every
nation in Europe. It is perhaps fortunate for the fame of Pitt that he did not live to
witness the accomplishment of the work in which he had laboured for thirteen years.
The glory of a just and courageous struggle against Napoleon's tyranny remains with
Pitt; the opprobrium of a settlement hostile to liberty has fallen on his successors. Yet
there is no good ground for believing that Pitt would have attached a higher value to
the rights or inclinations of individual communities than his successors did in
re-adjusting the balance of power; on the contrary, he himself first proposed to destroy
the Republic of Genoa, and to place Catholic Belgium under the Protestant Crown of
Holland; nor was any principle dearer to him than that of aggrandising the House of
Austria as a counterpoise to the power of France. [257] The Ministry of 1815 was
indeed but too faithfully walking in the path into which Pitt had been driven by the
King and the nation in 1793. Resistance to France had become the one absorbing care,
the beginning and end of English statesmanship. Government at home had sunk to a
narrow and unfeeling opposition to the attempts made from time to time to humanise
the mass of the people, to reform an atrocious criminal law, to mitigate the civil wrongs
inflicted in the name and the interest of a State-religion. No one in the Cabinet doubted
that authority, as such, must be wiser than inexperienced popular desire, least of all the
statesman who now, in conjunction with the Duke of Wellington, controlled the policy
of Great Britain upon the Continent. Lord Castlereagh had no sympathy with cruelty or
oppression in Continental rulers; he had just as little belief in the value of free
institutions to their subjects. [258] The nature of his influence, which has been drawn
sometimes in too dark colours, may be fairly gathered from the course of action which
he followed in regard to Sicily and to Spain.
[In Sicily.]
In Sicily the representative of Great Britain, Lord William Bentinck, had forced King
Ferdinand, who could not have maintained himself for an hour without the arms and
money of England, to establish in 1813 a Parliament framed on the model of our own.
The Parliament had not proved a wise or a capable body, but its faults were certainly
not equal to those of King Ferdinand, and its re-construction under England's auspices
would have been an affair of no great difficulty. Ferdinand, however, had always
detested free institutions, and as soon as he regained the throne of Naples he
determined to have done with the Sicilian Parliament. A correspondence on the
intended change took place between Lord Castlereagh and A'Court, the Ambassador
who had now succeeded Lord William Bentinck. [259] That the British Government,
which had protected the Sicilian Crown against Napoleon at the height of his power,
could have protected the Sicilian Constitution against King Ferdinand's edicts without
detaching a single man-of-war's boat, is not open to doubt. Castlereagh, however, who
for years past had been paying, stimulating, or rebuking every Government in Europe,
and who had actually sent the British fleet to make the Norwegians submit to
Bernadotte, now suddenly adopted the principle of non-intervention, and declared that,
The action of the British Government in Spain showed an equal readiness to commit
the future to the wisdom of Courts. Lord Castlereagh was made acquainted with the
Spanish Ferdinand's design of abolishing the Constitution on his return in the year
1814. "So far," he replied, "as the mere existence of the Constitution is at stake, it is
impossible to believe that any change tranquilly effected can well be worse." [260] In
this case the interposition of England would perhaps not have availed against a
reactionary clergy and nation: Castlereagh, was, moreover, deceived by Ferdinand's
professions that he had no desire to restore absolute government. He credited the King
with the same kind of moderation which had led Louis XVIII. to accept the Charta in
France, and looked forward to the maintenance of a constitutional régime, though
under conditions more favourable to the executive power and to the influence of the
great landed proprietors and clergy.[261] Events soon proved what value was to be
attached to the word of the King; the flood of reaction and vengeance broke over the
country; and from this time the British Government, half confessing and half excusing
Ferdinand's misdeeds, exerted itself to check the outrages of despotism, and to mitigate
the lot of those who were now its victims. In the interest of the restored monarchies
themselves, as much as from a regard to the public opinion of Great Britain, the
Ambassadors of England urged moderation upon all the Bourbon Courts. This,
however, was also done by Metternich, who neither took pleasure in cruelty, nor
desired to see new revolutions produced by the extravagances of priests and emigrants.
It was not altogether without cause that the belief arose that there was little to choose,
in reference to the constitutional liberties of other States, between the sentiments of
Austria and those of the Ministers of free England. A difference, however, did exist.
Metternich actually prohibited the Sovereigns over whom his influence extended from
granting their subjects liberty: England, believing the Sovereigns to be more liberal
than they were, did not interfere to preserve constitutions from destruction.
Such was the general character of the influence now exercised by the three leading
Powers of Europe. Prussia, which had neither a fleet like England, an Italian
connection like Austria, nor an ambitious Sovereign like Russia, concerned itself little
with distant States, and limited its direct action to the affairs of France, in which it
possessed a substantial interest, inasmuch as the indemnities due from Louis XVIII.
had yet to be paid. The possibility of recovering these sums depended upon the
maintenance of peace and order in France; and from the first it was recognised by every
Government in Europe that the principal danger to peace and order arose from the
[Elections of 1815.]
Crimes like these were the counterpart of the September massacres of 1792; and the
terrorism exercised by the Royalists in 1815 has been compared, as a whole, with the
Republican Reign of Terror twenty-two years earlier. But the comparison does little
credit to the historical sense of those who suggested it. The barbarities of 1815 were
strictly local: shocking as they were, they scarcely amounted in all to an average day's
work of Carrier or Fouché in 1794; and the action of the established Government,
though culpably weak, was not itself criminal. A second and more dangerous stage of
reaction began, however, when the work of popular vengeance closed. Elections for a
new Chamber of Deputies were held at the end of August. The Liberals and the
adherents of Napoleon, paralysed by the disasters of France and the invaders' presence,
gave up all as lost: the Ministers of Louis XVIII. abstained from the usual electoral
manoeuvres, Talleyrand through carelessness, Fouché from a desire to see parties
evenly balanced: the ultra-Royalists alone had extended their organisation over France,
and threw themselves into the contest with the utmost passion and energy. Numerically
weak, they had the immense forces of the local administration on their side. The Préfets
The first result of the elections was the downfall of Talleyrand's Liberal Ministry. The
Count of Artois and the courtiers, who had been glad enough to secure Fouché's
services while their own triumph was doubtful, now joined in the outcry of the country
gentlemen again this monster of iniquity. Talleyrand promptly disencumbered himself
of his old friend, and prepared to meet the new Parliament as an ultra-Royalist; but in
the eyes of the victorious party Talleyrand himself, the married priest and the reputed
accomplice in the murder of the Duke of Enghien, was little better than his regicide
colleague; and before the Assembly met he was forced to retire from power.
His successor, the Duc de Richelieu, was recommended to Louis XVIII. by the Czar.
Richelieu had quitted France early in the Revolution, and, unlike most of the emigrants,
had played a distinguished part in the country which gave him refuge. Winning his first
laurels in the siege of Ismail under Suvaroff, he had subsequently been made Governor
of the Euxine provinces of Russia, and the flourishing town of Odessa had sprung up
under his rule. His reputation as an administrator was high; his personal character
singularly noble and disinterested. Though the English Government looked at first with
apprehension upon a Minister so closely connected with the Czar of Russia, Richelieu's
honesty and truthfulness soon gained him the respect of every foreign Court. His
relation to Alexander proved of great service to France in lightening the burden of the
army of occupation; his equity, his acquaintance with the real ends of monarchical
government, made him, though no lover of liberty, a valuable Minister in face of an
Assembly which represented nothing but the passions and the ideas of a reactionary
class. But Richelieu had been too long absent from France to grasp the details of
administration with a steady hand. The men, the parties of 1815, were new to him: it is
said that he was not acquainted by sight with most of his colleagues when he appointed
them to their posts. The Ministry in consequence was not at unity within itself. Some of
its members, like Decazes, were more liberal than their chief; others, like Clarke and
Vaublanc, old servants of Napoleon now turned ultra-Royalists, were eager to make
themselves the instruments of the Count of Artois, and to carry into the work of
government the enthusiasm of revenge which had already found voice in the elections.
The session opened on the 7th of October. Twenty-nine of the peers, who had joined
Napoleon during the Hundred Days, were excluded from the House, and replaced by
adherents of the Bourbons; nevertheless the peers as a body opposed themselves to
extreme reaction, and, in spite of Chateaubriand's sanguinary harangues, supported the
moderate policy of Richelieu against the majority of the Lower House. The first
demand of the Chamber of Deputies was for retribution upon traitors;[263] their first
conflict with the Government of Louis XVIII. arose upon the measures which were
brought forward by the Ministry for the preservation of public security and the
punishment of seditious acts. The Ministers were attacked, not because their measures
were too severe, but because they were not severe enough. While taking power to
imprison all suspected persons without trial, or to expel them from their homes,
Decazes, the Police-Minister, proposed to punish incitements to sedition by fines and
terms of imprisonment varying according to the gravity of the offence. So mild a
penalty excited the wrath of men whose fathers and brothers had perished on the
guillotine. Some cried out for death, others for banishment to Cayenne. When it was
pointed out that the infliction of capital punishment for the mere attempt at sedition
would place this on a level with armed rebellion, it was answered that a distinction
might be maintained by adding in the latter case the ancient punishment of parricide,
the amputation of the hand. Extravagances like this belonged rather to the individuals
than to a party; but the vehemence of the Chamber forced the Government to submit to
a revision of its measure. Transportation to Cayenne, but not death, was ultimately
included among the penalties for seditious acts. The Minister of Justice, M.
Barbé-Marbois, who had himself been transported to Cayenne by the Jacobins in 1797,
was able to satisfy the Chamber from his own experience that they were not erring on
the side of mercy. [264]
It was in the midst of these heated debates that Marshal Ney was brought to trial for
high treason. A so-called Edict of Amnesty had been published by the King on the 24th
of July, containing the names of nineteen persons who were to be tried by
courts-martial on capital charges, and of thirty-eight others who were to be either
exiled or brought to justice, as the Chamber might determine. Ney was included in the
first category. Opportunities for escape had been given to him by the Government, as
indeed they had to almost every other person on the list. King Louis XVIII. well
understood that his Government was not likely to be permanently strengthened by the
execution of some of the most distinguished men in France; the emigrants, however,
and especially the Duchess of Angoulême, were merciless, and the English
Government acted a deplorable part. "One can never feel that the King is secure on his
throne," wrote Lord Liverpool, "until he has dared to spill traitors' blood." It is not that
many examples would be necessary; but the daring to make a few will alone manifest
any strength in the Government. [265] Labédoyère had already been executed. On the
9th of November Ney was brought before a court-martial, at which Castlereagh and his
wife had the bad taste to be present. The court-martial, headed by Ney's old comrade
Jourdan, declared itself incompetent to judge a peer of France accused of high treason,
[266] Ney was accordingly tried before the House of Peers. The verdict was a foregone
conclusion, and indeed the legal guilt of the Marshal could hardly be denied. Had the
On the 7th of December the sentence was executed. Ney was shot at early morning in
an unfrequented spot, and the Government congratulated itself that it had escaped the
dangers of a popular demonstration and heard the last of a disagreeable business. Never
was there a greater mistake. No crime committed in the Reign of Terror attached a
deeper popular opprobrium to its authors than the execution of Ney did to the Bourbon
family. The victim, a brave but rough half-German soldier,[267] rose in popular legend
almost to the height of the Emperor himself. His heroism in the retreat from Moscow
became, and with justice, a more glorious memory than Davoust's victory at Jena or
Moreau's at Hohenlinden. Side by side with the thought that the Bourbons had been
brought back by foreign arms, the remembrance sank deep into the heart of the French
people that this family had put to death "the bravest of the brave." It would have been
no common good fortune for Louis XVIII. to have pardoned or visited with light
punishment a great soldier whose political feebleness had led him to an act of treason,
condoned by the nation at large. Exile would not have made the transgressor a martyr.
But the common sense of mankind condemns Ney's execution: the public opinion of
France has never forgiven it.
On the day after the great example was made, Richelieu brought forward the Amnesty
Bill of the Government in the House of Representatives. The King, while claiming full
right of pardon, desired that the Chamber should be associated with him in its exercise,
and submitted a project of law securing from prosecution all persons not included in
the list published on July 24th. Measures of a very different character had already been
introduced under the same title into the Chamber. Though the initiative in legislation
belonged by virtue of the Charta to the Crown, resolutions might be moved by
members in the shape of petition or address, and under this form the leaders of the
majority had drawn up schemes for the wholesale proscription of Napoleon's adherents.
It was proposed by M. la Bourdonnaye to bring to trial all the great civil and military
officers who, during the Hundred Days, had constituted the Government of the usurper;
all generals, préfets, and commanders of garrisons, who had obeyed Napoleon before a
certain day, to be named by the Assembly; and all voters for the death of Louis XVI.
who had recognised Napoleon by signing the Acte Additionnel. The language in which
these prosecutions were urged was the echo of that which had justified the bloodshed
of 1793; its violence was due partly to the fancy that Napoleon's return was no sudden
and unexpected act, but the work of a set of conspirators in high places, who were still
plotting the overthrow of the monarchy.[268]
It was in vain that Richelieu intervened with the expression of the King's own wishes,
and recalled the example of forgiveness shown in the testament of Louis XVI. The
committee which was appointed to report on the projects of amnesty brought up a
scheme little different from that of La Bourdonnaye, and added to it the iniquitous
proposal that civil actions should be brought against all condemned persons for the
damages sustained by the State through Napoleon's return. This was to make a mock of
the clause in the Charta which abolished confiscation. The report of the committee
caused the utmost dismay both in France itself and among the representatives of
foreign Powers at Paris. The conflict between the men of reaction and the Government
had openly broken out; Richelieu's Ministry, the guarantee of peace, seemed to be on
the point of falling. On the 2nd of January, 1816, the Chamber proceeded to discuss the
Bill of the Government and the amendments of the committee. The debate lasted four
days; it was only by the repeated use of the King's own name that the Ministers
succeeded in gaining a majority of nine votes against the two principal categories of
exception appended to the amnesty by their opponents. The proposal to restore
confiscation under the form of civil actions was rejected by a much greater majority,
but on the vote affecting the regicides the Government was defeated. This indeed was
considered of no great moment. Richelieu, content with having averted measures which
would have exposed several hundred persons to death, exile, or pecuniary ruin,
consented to banish from France the regicides who had acknowledged Napoleon, along
with the thirty-eight persons named in the second list of July 24th. Among other
well-known men, Carnot, who had rendered such great services to his country, went to
die in exile. Of the seventeen companions of Ney and Labédoyère in the first list of
July 24th, most had escaped from France; one alone suffered death. [269] But the
persons originally excluded from the amnesty and the regicides exiled by the Assembly
formed but a small part of those on whom the vengeance of the Royalists fell; for it was
provided that the amnesty-law should apply to no one against whom proceedings had
been taken before the formal promulgation of the law. The prisons were already
crowded with accused persons, who thus remained exposed to punishment; and after
the law had actually passed the Chamber, telegraph-signals were sent over the country
by Clarke, the Minister of War, ordering the immediate accusation of several others.
One distinguished soldier at least, General Travot, was sentenced to death on
proceedings thus instituted between the passing and the promulgation of the law of
amnesty.[270] Executions, however, were not numerous except in the south of France,
but an enormous number of persons were imprisoned or driven from their homes, some
by judgment of the law-courts, some by the exercise of the powers conferred on the
administration by the law of Public Security. [271] The central government indeed had
less part in this species of persecution than the Préfets and other local authorities,
though within their own departments Clarke and Vaublanc set an example which others
were not slow to follow. Royalist committees were formed all over the country, and
assumed the same kind of irregular control over the officials of their districts as had
been practised by the Jacobin committees of 1793. Thousands of persons employed in
all grades of the public service, in schools and colleges as well as in the civil
administration, in the law-courts as well as in the army and navy, were dismissed from
their posts. The new-comers were professed agents of the reaction; those who were
permitted to retain their offices strove to outdo their colleagues in their renegade zeal
for the new order. It was seen again, as it had been seen under the Republic and under
the Empire, that if virtue has limits, servility has none. The same men who had hunted
down the peasant for sheltering his children from Napoleon's conscription now hunted
Within the Chamber of Deputies the Ultra-Royalist majority had gained Parliamentary
experience in the debates on the Amnesty Bill and the Law of Public Security: their
own policy now took a definite shape, and to outbursts of passion there succeeded the
attempt to realise ideas. Hatred of the Revolution and all its works was still the
dominant impulse of the Assembly; but whatever may have been the earlier desire of
the Ultra-Royalist noblesse, it was no longer their intention to restore the political
system that existed before 1789. They would in that case have desired to restore
absolute monarchy, and to surrender the power which seemed at length to have fallen
into the hands of their own class. With Artois on the throne this might have been
possible, for Artois, though heir to the crown, was still what he had been in his youth,
the chief of a party: with Louis XVIII. and Richelieu at the head of the State, the
Ultra-Royalists became the adversaries of royal prerogative and the champions of the
rights of Parliament. Before the Revolution the noblesse had possessed privileges; it
had not possessed political power. The Constitution of 1814 had unexpectedly given it,
under representative forms, the influence denied to it under the old monarchy. New
political vistas opened; and the men who had hitherto made St. Louis and Henry IV. the
subject of their declamations, now sought to extend the rights of Parliament to the
utmost, and to perpetuate in succeeding assemblies the rule of the present majority. An
electoral law favourable to the great landed proprietors was the first necessity. This
indeed was but a means to an end; another and a greater end might be attained directly,
the restoration of a landed Church, and of the civil and social ascendancy of the clergy.
It had been admitted by King Louis XVIII. that the clause in the Charta relating to
elections required modification, and on this point the Ultra-Royalists in the Chamber
were content to wait for the proposals of the Government. In their ecclesiastical policy
they did not maintain the same reserve. Resolutions in favour of the State-Church were
discussed in the form of petitions to be presented to the Crown. It was proposed to
make the clergy, as they had been before the Revolution, the sole keepers of registers
of birth and marriage; to double the annual payment made to them by the State; to
permit property of all kinds to be acquired by the Church by gift or will; to restore all
Church lands not yet sold by the State; and, finally, to abolish the University of France,
and to place all schools and colleges throughout the country under the control of the
Bishops. One central postulate not only passed the Chamber, but was accepted by the
Government and became law. Divorce was absolutely abolished; and for two
generations after 1816 no possible aggravation of wrong sufficed in France to release
either husband or wife from the mockery of a marriage-tie. The power to accept
donations or legacies was granted to the clergy, subject, however, in every case to the
approval of the Crown. The allowance made to them out of the revenues of the State
was increased by the amount of certain pensions as they should fall in, a concession
which fell very far short of the demands of the Chamber. In all, the advantages won for
the Church were scarcely proportioned to the zeal displayed in its cause. The most
important question, the disposal of the unsold Church lands, remained to be determined
when the Chamber should enter upon the discussion of the Budget.
The Electoral Bill of the Government, from which the Ultra-Royalists expected so
much, was introduced at the end of the year 1815. It showed in a singular manner the
confusion of ideas existing within the Ministry as to the nature of the Parliamentary
liberty now supposed to belong to France. The ex-préfet Vaublanc, to whom the
framing of the measure was entrusted, though he imagined himself purged from the
traditions of Napoleonism, could conceive of no relation between the executive and the
legislative power but that which exists between a substance and its shadow. It never
entered his mind that the representative institutions granted by the Charta were
intended to bring an independent force to bear upon the Government, or that the nation
should be treated as more than a fringe round the compact and lasting body of the
administration. The language in which Vaublanc introduced his measure was
grotesquely candid. Montesquieu, he said, had pointed out that powers must be
subordinate; therefore the electoral power must be controlled by the King's
Government. [273] By the side of the electors in the Canton and the Department there
was accordingly placed, in the Ministerial scheme, an array of officials numerous
enough to carry the elections, if indeed they did not actually outnumber the private
voters. The franchise was confined to the sixty richest persons in each Canton: these,
with the officials of the district, were to elect the voters of the Department, who, with a
similar contingent of officials, were to choose the Deputies. Re-affirming the principle
laid down in the Constitution of 1795 and repeated in the Charta, Vaublanc proposed
that a fifth part of the Assembly should retire each year.
[Counter-project of Villèle.]
If the Minister had intended to give the Ultra-Royalists the best possible means of
exalting the peculiar policy of their class into something like a real defence of liberty,
he could not have framed a more fitting measure. The creation of constituent bodies out
of mayors, crown-advocates, and justices of the peace, was described, and with truth,
as a mere Napoleonic juggle. The limitation of the franchise to a fixed number of rich
persons was condemned as illiberal and contrary to the spirit of the Charta: the system
of yearly renovation by fifths, which threatened to curtail the reign of the present
majority, was attributed to the dread of any complete expression of public opinion. It
was evident that the Bill of the Government would either be rejected or altered in such
a manner as to give it a totally different character. In the Committee of the Chamber
which undertook the task of drawing up amendments, the influence was first felt of a
man who was soon to become the chief and guiding spirit of the Ultra-Royalist party.
M. de Villèle, spokesman of the Committee, had in his youth been an officer in the
navy of Louis XVI. On the dethronement of the King he had quitted the service, and
settled in the Isle of Bourbon, where he gained some wealth and an acquaintance with
details of business and finance rare among the French landed gentry. Returning to
France under the Empire, he took up his abode near Toulouse, his native place, and was
made Mayor of that city on Napoleon's second downfall. Villèle's politics gained a
strong and original colour from his personal experience and the character of the
province in which he lived. The south was the only part of France known to him. There
Villèle's scheme, if carried, would in all probability have failed at the first trial. The
districts in which the reaction of 1815 was popular were not so large as he supposed: in
the greater part of France the peasantry would not have obeyed the nobles except under
intimidation. This was suspected by the majority, in spite of the confident language in
which they spoke of the will of the nation as identical with their own. Villèle's boldness
alarmed them: they anticipated that these great constituencies of peasants, if really left
masters of the elections, would be more likely to return a body of Jacobins and
Bonapartists than one of hereditary landlords. It was not necessary, however, to
sacrifice the well-sounding principle of a low franchise, for the democratic vote at the
first stage of the elections might effectively be neutralised by putting the second stage
into the hands of the chief proprietors. The Assembly had in fact only to imitate the
example of the Government, and to appoint a body of persons who should vote, as of
right, by the side of the electors chosen in the primary assemblies. The Government in
its own interest had designated a troop of officials as electors: the Assembly, on the
contrary, resolved that in the Electoral College of each Department, numbering in all
about 150 persons, the fifty principal landowners of the Department should be entitled
to vote, whether they had been nominated by the primary constituencies or not.
Modified by this proviso, the project of Villèle passed the Assembly. The Government
saw that under the disguise of a series of amendments a measure directly antagonistic
to their own had been carried. The franchise had been altered; the real control of the
elections placed in the hands of the very party which was now in open opposition to the
King and his Ministers. No compromise was possible between the law proposed by the
Government and that passed by the Assembly. The Government appealed to the
Chamber of Peers. The Peers threw out the amendments of the Lower House. A
provisional measure was then introduced by Richelieu for the sake of providing France
with at least some temporary rule for the conduct of elections. It failed; and the
constitutional legislation of the country came to a dead-lock, while the Government and
the Assembly stood face to face, and it became evident that one or the other must fall.
The Ministers of the Great Powers at Paris, who watched over the restored dynasty,
debated whether or not they should recommend the King to resort to the extreme
measure of a dissolution.
The Electoral Bill was not the only object of conflict between Richelieu's Ministry and
the Chamber, nor indeed the principal one. The Budget excited fiercer passions, and
raised greater issues. It was for no mere scheme of finance that the Government had to
fight, but against a violation of public faith which would have left France insolvent and
creditless in the face of the Powers who still held its territory in pledge. The debt
incurred by the nation since 1813 was still unfunded. That part of it which had been
raised before the summer of 1814 had been secured by law upon the unsold forests
formerly belonging to the Church, and upon the Communal lands which Napoleon had
made the property of the State: the remainder, which included the loans made during
the Hundred Days, had no specified security. It was now proposed by the Government
to place the whole of the unfunded debt upon the same level, and to provide for its
payment by selling the so-called Church forests. The project excited the bitterest
opposition on the side of the Count of Artois and his friends. If there was one object
which the clerical and reactionary party pursued with religious fervour, it was the
restoration of the Church lands: if there was one class which they had no scruple in
impoverishing, it was the class that had lent money to Napoleon. Instead of paying the
debts of the State, the Committee of the Chamber proposed to repeal the law of
September, 1814, which pledged the Church forests, and to compel both the earlier and
the later holders of the unfunded debt to accept stock in satisfaction of their claims,
though the stock was worth less than two-thirds of its nominal value. The resolution
was in fact one for the repudiation of a third part of the unfunded debt. Richelieu,
seeing in what fashion his measure was about to be transformed, determined upon
withdrawing it altogether: the majority in the Chamber, intent on executing its own
policy and that of the Count of Artois, refused to recognise the withdrawal. Such a step
was at once an insult and a usurpation of power. So great was the scandal and alarm
caused by the scenes in the Chamber, that the Duke of Wellington, at the instance of
the Ambassadors, presented a note to King Louis XVIII. requiring him in plain terms to
put a stop to the machinations of his brother. [274] The interference of the foreigner
provoked the Ultra-Royalists, and failed to excite energetic action on the part of King
Louis, who dreaded the sour countenance of the Duchess of Angoulême more than he
did Wellington's reproofs. In the end the question of a settlement of the unfunded debt
was allowed to remain open. The Government was unable to carry the sale of the
Church forests, the Chamber did not succeed in its project of confiscation. The Budget
for the year, greatly altered in the interest of the landed proprietors, was at length
brought into shape. A resolution of the Lower House restoring the unsold forests to the
Church was ignored by the Crown; and the Government, having obtained the means of
carrying on the public services, gladly abstained from further legislation, and on the
29th of April ended the turmoil which surrounded it by proroguing the Chambers.
It was hoped that with the close of the Session the system of imprisonment and
surveillance which prevailed in the Departments would be brought to an end.
Vaublanc, the Minister of coercion, was removed from office. But the troubles of
France were not yet over. On the 6th of May, a rising of peasants took place at
Grenoble. According to the report of General Donnadieu, commander of the garrison,
which brought the news to the Government, the revolt had only been put down after the
[Decazes.]
Louis XVIII. depended much on the society of some personal favourite. Decazes was
young and an agreeable companion; his business as Police-Minister gave him the
opportunity of amusing the King with anecdotes and gossip much more congenial to
the old man's taste than discussions on finance or constitutional law. Louis came to
regard Decazes almost as a son, and gratified his own studious inclination by teaching
him English. The Minister's enemies said that he won the King's heart by taking private
lessons from some obscure Briton, and attributing his extraordinary progress to the skill
of his royal master. But Decazes had a more effective retort than witticism. He opened
the letters of the Ultra-Royalists and laid them before the King. Louis found that these
loyal subjects jested upon his infirmities, called him a dupe in the hands of Jacobins,
and grumbled at him for so long delaying the happy hour when Artois should ascend
the throne. Humorous as Louis was, he was not altogether pleased to read that he
"ought either to open his eyes or to close them for ever." At the same time the reports
of Decazes' local agents proved that the Ultra-Royalist party were in reality weak in
numbers and unpopular throughout the greater part of the country. The project of a
dissolution was laid before the Ministers and some of the King's confidants. Though
the Ambassadors were not consulted on the measure, it was certain that they would not
resist it. No word of the Ministerial plot reached the rival camp of Artois. The King
gained courage, and on the 5th of September signed the Ordonnance which appealed
from the Parliament to the nation, and, to the anger and consternation of the
Ultra-Royalists, made an end of the intractable Chamber a few weeks before the time
which had been fixed for its re-assembling.
Not many of the persons who had been imprisoned under the provisional acts of the last
year now remained in confinement. It was considered necessary to prolong the Laws of
Public Security, and they were re-enacted, but under a much softened form. It remained
for the new Chamber to restore the financial credit of the country by making some
equitable arrangement for securing the capital and paying the interest of the unfunded
debt. Projects of repudiation now gained no hearing. Richelieu consented to make an
annual allowance to the Church, equivalent to the rental of the Church forests; but the
forests themselves were made security for the debt, and the power of sale was granted
to the Government. Pending such repayment of the capital, the holders of unfunded
debt received stock, calculated at its real, not at its titular, value. The effect of this
measure was at once evident. The Government was enabled to enter into negotiations
for a loan, which promised it the means of paying the indemnities due to the foreign
Powers. On this payment depended the possibility of withdrawing the army of
occupation. Though Wellington at first offered some resistance, thirty thousand men
were removed in the spring of 1817; and the Czar allowed Richelieu to hope that, if no
further difficulties should arise, the complete evacuation of French territory might take
place in the following year.
Thus the dangers with which reactionary passion had threatened France appeared to be
passing away. The partial renovation of the Chamber which took place in the autumn of
1817 still further strengthened the Ministry of Richelieu and weakened the
But if the years between 1815 and 1819 were in France years of hope and progress, it
was not so with Europe generally. In England they were years of almost unparalleled
suffering and discontent; in Italy the rule of Austria grew more and more anti-national;
in Prussia, though a vigorous local and financial administration hastened the recovery
of the impoverished land, the hopes of liberty declined beneath the reviving energy of
the nobles and the resistance of the friends of absolutism. When Stein had summoned
the Prussian people to take up arms for their Fatherland, he had believed that neither
Frederick William nor Alexander would allow Prussia to remain without free
institutions after the battle was won. The keener spirits in the War of Liberation had
scarcely distinguished between the cause of national independence and that of internal
liberty. They returned from the battlefields of Saxony and France, knowing that the
Prussian nation had unsparingly offered up life and wealth at the call of patriotism, and
believing that a patriot-king would rejoice to crown his triumph by inaugurating
German freedom. For a while the hope seemed near fulfilment. On the 22nd of May,
1815, Frederick William published an ordinance, declaring that a Representation of the
People should be established. [276] For this end the King stated that the existing
Provincial Estates should be re-organised, and new ones founded where none existed,
and that out of the Provincial Estates the Assembly of Representatives of the country
should be chosen. It was added that a commission would be appointed, to organise
under Hardenberg's presidency the system of representation, and to draw up a written
Constitution. The right of discussing all legislative measures affecting person or
property was promised to the Assembly. Though foreign affairs seemed to be directly
excluded from parliamentary debate, and the language of the Edict suggested that the
representative body would only have a consultative voice, without the power either of
But the promise of Frederick William was destined to remain unfulfilled. It was no
good omen for Prussia that Stein, who had rendered such glorious services to his
country and to all Europe, was suffered to retire from public life. The old court-party at
Berlin, politicians who had been forced to make way for more popular men,
landowners who had never pardoned the liberation of the serf, all the interests of
absolutism and class-privilege which had disappeared for a moment in the great
struggle for national existence, gradually re-asserted their influence over the King, and
undermined the authority of Hardenberg, himself sinking into old age amid
circumstances of private life that left to old age little of its honour. To decide even in
principle upon the basis to be given to the new Prussian Constitution would have taxed
all the foresight and all the constructive skill of the most experienced statesman; for by
the side of the ancient dominion of the Hohenzollerns there were now the Rhenish and
the Saxon Provinces, alien in spirit and of doubtful loyalty, in addition to Polish
territory and smaller German districts acquired at intervals between 1792 and 1815.
Hardenberg was right in endeavouring to link the Constitution with something that had
come down from the past; but the decision that the General Assembly should be
formed out of the Provincial Estates was probably an injudicious one; for these Estates,
in their present form, were mainly corporations of nobles, and the spirit which
animated them was at once the spirit of class-privilege and of an intensely strong
localism. Hardenberg had not only occasioned an unnecessary delay by basing the
representative system upon a reform of the Provincial Estates, but had exposed himself
to sharp attacks from these very bodies, to whom nothing was more odious than the
absorption of their own dignity by a General Assembly. It became evident that the
process of forming a Constitution would be a tedious one; and in the meantime the
opponents of the popular movement opened their attack upon the men and the ideas
whose influence in the war of Liberation appeared to have made so great a break
between the German present and the past.
The first public utterance of the reaction was a pamphlet issued in July, 1815, by
Schmalz, a jurist of some eminence, and brother-in-law of Scharnhorst, the re-organiser
of the army. Schmalz, contradicting a statement which attributed to him a highly
honourable part in the patriotic movement of 1808, attacked the Tugendbund, and other
political associations dating from that epoch, in language of extreme violence. In the
stiff and peremptory manner of the old Prussian bureaucracy, he denied that popular
enthusiasm had anything whatever to do with the victory of 1813, [277] attributing the
recovery of the nation firstly to its submission to the French alliance in 1812, and
secondly to the quiet sense of duty with which, when the time came, it took up arms in
obedience to the King. Then, passing on to the present aims of the political societies, he
accused them of intending to overthrow all established governments, and to force unity
upon Germany by means of revolution, murder, and pillage. Stein was not mentioned
by name, but the warning was given to men of eminence who encouraged Jacobinical
societies, that in such combinations the giants end by serving the dwarfs. Schmalz's
In the Edict of the 22nd of May, 1815, the King had ordered that the work of framing a
Constitution should be begun in the following September. Delays, however, arose; and
when the commission was at length appointed, its leading members were directed to
travel over the country in order to collect opinions upon the form of representation
required. Two years passed before even this preliminary operation began. In the
meantime very little progress had been made towards the establishment of
constitutional government in Germany at large. One prince alone, the Grand Duke of
Weimar, already eminent in Europe from his connection with Goethe and Schiller,
loyally accepted the idea of a free State, and brought representative institutions into
actual working. In Hesse, the Elector summoned the Estates, only to dismiss them with
contumely when they resisted his extortions. In most of the minor States contests or
negotiations took place between the Sovereigns and the ancient Orders, which led to
little or no result. The Federal Diet, which ought to have applied itself to the
determination of certain principles of public right common to all Germany, remained
inactive. Though hope had not yet fallen, a sense of discontent arose, especially among
the literary class which had shown such enthusiasm in the War of Liberation. It was
characteristic of Germany that the demand for free government came not from a group
of soldiers, as in Spain, not from merchants and men of business, as in England, but
from professors and students, and from journalists, who were but professors in another
form. The middle class generally were indifferent: the higher nobility, and the knights
who had lost their semi-independence in 1803, sought for the restoration of privileges
which were really incompatible with any State-government whatever. The advocacy of
constitutional rule and of German unity was left, in default of Prussian initiative, to the
ardent spirits of the Universities and the Press, who naturally exhibited in the treatment
of political problems more fluency than knowledge, and more zeal than discretion.
Jena, in the dominion of the Duke of Weimar, became, on account of the freedom of
printing which existed there, the centre of the new Liberal journalism. Its University
took the lead in the Teutonising movement which had been inaugurated by Fichte
twelve years before in the days of Germany's humiliation, and which had now received
so vigorous an impulse from the victory won over the foreigner.
[Alexander in 1818.]
Twelve months passed between the Wartburg festival and the beginning of the
Conferences at Aix-la-Chapelle. In the interval a more important person than the King
of Prussia went over to the side of reaction. Up to the summer of 1818, the Czar
appeared to have abated nothing of his zeal for constitutional government. In the spring
of that year, he summoned the Polish Diet; addressed them in a speech so enthusiastic
as to alarm not only the Court of Vienna but all his own counsellors; and stated in the
clearest possible language his intention of extending the benefits of a representative
system to the whole Russian Empire. [280] At the close of the brief session he thanked
the Polish Deputies for their boldness in throwing out a measure proposed by himself.
Alexander's popular rhetoric at Warsaw might perhaps be not incompatible with a
settled purpose to permit no encroachment on authority either there or elsewhere; but
the change in his tone was so great when he appeared at Aix-la-Chapelle a few months
afterwards, that some strange and sudden cause has been thought necessary to explain
it. It is said that during the Czar's residence at Moscow, in June, 1818, the revelation
was made to him of the existence of a mass of secret societies in the army, whose aim
was the overthrow of his own Government. Alexander's father had died by the hands of
murderers: his own temperament, sanguine and emotional, would make the effects of
such a discovery, in the midst of all his benevolent hopes for Russia, poignant to the
last degree. It is not inconsistent either with his character or with earlier events in his
personal history that the Czar should have yielded to a single shock of feeling, and
have changed in a moment from the liberator to the despot. But the evidence of what
passed in his mind is wanting. Hearsay, conjecture, gossip, abound; [281] the one man
who could have told all has left no word. This only is certain, that from the close of the
year 1818, the future, hitherto bright with dreams of peaceful progress, became in
Alexander's view a battle-field between the forces of order and anarchy. The task
imposed by Providence on himself and other kings was no longer to spread knowledge
and liberty among mankind, but to defend existing authority, and even authority that
was oppressive and un-Christian, against the madness that was known as popular right.
[France evacuated.]
[Canning.]
At the end of September, 1818, the Sovereigns or Ministers of the Great Powers
assembled at Aix-la-Chapelle, and the Conferences began. The first question to be
decided was whether the Allied Army might safely be withdrawn from France; the
second, in what form the concert of Europe should hereafter be maintained. On the first
question there was no disagreement: the evacuation of France was resolved upon and
promptly executed. The second question was a more difficult one. Richelieu, on behalf
of King Louis XVIII., represented that France now stood on the same footing as any
other European Power, and proposed that the Quadruple Alliance of 1815 should be
converted into a genuine European federation by adding France to it as a fifth member.
The plan had been communicated to the English Government, and would probably
have received its assent but for the strong opposition raised by Canning within the
Cabinet. Canning took a gloomy but a true view of the proposed concert of the Powers.
He foresaw that it would really amount to a combination of governments against
liberty. Therefore, while recognising the existing engagements of this country, he urged
that England ought to join in no combination except that to which it had already
pledged itself, namely, the combination made with the definite object of resisting
French disturbance. To combine with three Powers to prevent Napoleon or the Jacobins
from again becoming masters of France was a reasonable act of policy: to combine
with all the Great Powers of Europe against nothing in particular was to place the
country on the side of governments against peoples, and to involve England in any
enterprise of repression which the Courts might think fit to undertake. Canning's
warning opened the eyes of his colleagues to the view which was likely to be taken of
such a general alliance by Parliament and by public opinion. Lord Castlereagh was
forbidden to make this country a party to any abstract union of Governments. In
memorable words the Prime Minister described the true grounds for the decision: "We
must recollect in the whole of this business, and ought to make our Allies feel, that the
general and European discussion of these questions will be in the British Parliament."
[282] Fear of the rising voice of the nation, no longer forced by military necessities to
sanction every measure of its rulers, compelled Lords Liverpool and Castlereagh to
take account of scruples which were not their own. On the same grounds, while the
Ministry agreed that Continental difficulties which might hereafter arise ought to be
settled by a friendly discussion among the Great Powers, it declined to elevate this
It was the refusal of England to enter into a general league that determined the form in
which the results of the Conference of 1818 were embodied. In the first place the
Quadruple Alliance against French revolution was renewed, and with such seriousness
that the military centres were fixed, at which, in case of any outbreak, the troops of
each of the Great Powers should assemble. [283] This Treaty, however, was kept secret,
in order not to add to the difficulties of Richelieu. The published documents breathed
another spirit. [284] Without announcing an actual alliance with King Louis XVIII., the
Courts, including England, declared that through the restoration of legitimate and
constitutional monarchy France had regained its place in the councils of Europe, and
that it would hereafter co-operate in maintaining the general peace. For this end
meetings of the sovereigns or their ministers might be necessary; such meetings would,
however, be arranged by the ordinary modes of negotiation, nor would the affairs of
any minor State be discussed by the Great Powers, except at the direct invitation of that
State, whose representatives would then be admitted to the sittings. In these guarded
words the intention of forming a permanent and organised Court of Control over
Europe was disclaimed. A manifesto, addressed to the world at large, declared that the
sovereigns of the five great States had no other object in their union than the
maintenance of peace on the basis of existing treaties. They had formed no new
political combinations; their rule was the observance of international law; their object
the prosperity and moral welfare of their subjects.
The earnestness with which the statesmen of 1818, while accepting the conditions laid
down by England, persevered in the project of a joint regulation of European affairs
may suggest the question whether the plan which they had at heart would not in truth
have operated to the benefit of mankind. The answer is, that the value of any
International Council depends firstly on the intelligence which it is likely to possess,
and secondly on the degree in which it is really representative. Experience proved that
the Congresses which followed 1818 possessed but a limited intelligence, and that they
represented nothing at all but authority. The meeting at Aix-la-Chapelle was itself the
turning-point in the constitutional history of Europe. Though no open declaration was
made against constitutional forms, every Sovereign and every minister who attended
the Conference left it with the resolution to draw the reins of government tighter. A
note of alarm had been sounded. Conspiracies in Belgium, an attempt on the life of
Wellington, rumours of a plot to rescue Napoleon from St. Helena, combined with the
outcry against the German Universities and the whispered tales from Moscow in filling
the minds of statesmen with apprehensions. The change which had taken place in
Alexander himself was of the most serious moment. Up to this time Metternich, the
leader of European Conservatism, had felt that in the Czar there were sympathies with
If it is the mark of a clever statesman to know where to press and where to give way,
Metternich certainly proved himself one in 1818. Before the end of the Conference he
delivered to Hardenberg and to the King of Prussia two papers containing a complete
set of recommendations for the management of Prussian affairs. The contents of these
documents were singular enough: it is still more singular that they form the history of
what actually took place in Prussia during the succeeding years. Starting with the
assumption that the party of revolution had found its lever in the promise of King
Frederick William to create a Representative System, Metternich demonstrated in
polite language to the very men who had made this promise, that any central
Representation would inevitably overthrow the Prussian State; pointed out that the
King's dominions consisted of seven Provinces; and recommended Frederick William
to fulfil his promise only by giving to each Province a Diet for the discussion of its own
local concerns. Having thus warned the King against creating a National Parliament,
like that which had thrown France into revolution in 1789, Metternich exhibited the
specific dangers of the moment and the means of overcoming them. These dangers
were Universities, Gymnastic establishments, and the Press. "The revolutionists," he
said, "despairing of effecting their aim themselves, have formed the settled plan of
educating the next generation for revolution. The Gymnastic establishment is a
preparatory school for University disorders. The University seizes the youth as he
leaves boyhood, and gives him a revolutionary training. This mischief is common to all
Germany, and must be checked by joint action of the Governments. Gymnasia, on the
contrary, were invented at Berlin, and spring from Berlin. For these, palliative
measures are no longer sufficient. It has become a duty of State for the King of Prussia
to destroy the evil. The whole institution in every shape must be closed and uprooted."
With regard to the abuse of the Press, Metternich contented himself with saying that a
difference ought to be made between substantial books and mere pamphlets or journals;
and that the regulation of the Press throughout Germany at large could only be effected
by an agreement between Austria and Prussia. [287]
With a million men under arms, the Sovereigns who had overthrown Napoleon
trembled because thirty or forty journalists and professors pitched their rhetoric rather
too high, and because wise heads did not grow upon schoolboys' shoulders. The
Emperor Francis, whose imagination had failed to rise to the glories of the Holy
Alliance, alone seems to have had some suspicion of the absurdity of the present
alarms. [288] The Czar distinguished himself by his zeal against the lecturers who were
turning the world upside down. As if Metternich had not frightened the Congress
enough already, the Czar distributed at Aix-la-Chapelle a pamphlet published by one
Stourdza, a Moldavian, which described Germany as on the brink of revolution, and
enumerated half a score of mortal disorders which racked that unfortunate country. The
chief of all was the vicious system of the Universities, which instead of duly
developing the vessel of the Christian State from the cradle of Moses, [289] brought up
young men to be despisers of law and instruments of a licentious Press. The ingenious
Moldavian, whose expressions in some places bear a singular resemblance to those of
Alexander, while in others they are actually identical with reflections of Metternich's
not then published, went on to enlighten the German Governments as to the best means
of rescuing their subjects from their perilous condition. Certain fiscal and
administrative changes were briefly suggested, but the main reform urged was exactly
that propounded by Metternich, the enforcement of a better discipline and of a more
rigidly-prescribed course of study at the Universities, along with the supervision of all
journals and periodical literature.
[Action of Metternich.]
The effects of Sand's act were very great, and their real nature was at once recognised.
Hardenberg, the moment that he heard of Kotzebue's death, exclaimed that a Prussian
Constitution had now become impossible. Metternich, who had thought the Czar mad
because he desired to found a peaceful alliance of Sovereigns on religious principles,
was not likely to make allowance for a kind of piety that sent young rebels over the
country on missions of murder. The Austrian statesman was in Rome when the news of
Kotzebue's assassination reached him. He saw that the time had come for united action
throughout Germany, and, without making any public utterance, drew up a scheme of
repressive measures, and sent out proposals for a gathering of the Ministers of all the
principal German Courts. In the summer he travelled slowly northwards, met the King
of Prussia at Teplitz, in Bohemia, and shortly afterwards opened the intended
Conference of Ministers in the neighbouring town of Carlsbad. A number of innocent
persons had already, at his instigation, been arrested in Prussia and other States, under
circumstances deeply discreditable to Government. Private papers were seized, and
garbled extracts from them published in official prints as proof of guilt. [291] "By the
help of God," Metternich wrote, "I hope to defeat the German Revolution, just as I
vanquished the conqueror of the world. The revolutionists thought me far away,
because I was five hundred leagues off. They deceived themselves; I have been in the
midst of them, and now I am striking my blows." [292] Metternich's plan was to
enforce throughout Germany, by means of legislation in the Federal Diet, the principle
which he had already privately commended to the King of Prussia. There were two
distinct objects of policy before him: the first, to prevent the formation in any German
State of an assembly representing the whole community, like the English House of
Commons or the French Chamber of Deputies; the second, to establish a general
system of censorship over the Press and over the Universities, and to create a central
authority, vested, as the representative of the Diet, with inquisitorial powers.
The first of these objects, the prevention of general assemblies, had been rendered more
difficult by recent acts of the Governments of Bavaria and Baden. A singular change
had taken place in the relation between Prussia and the Minor States which had
formerly constituted the Federation of the Rhine. When, at the Congress of Vienna,
Prussian statesmen had endeavoured to limit the arbitrary rule of petty sovereigns by
charging the Diet with the protection of constitutional right over all Germany, the
Kings of Bavaria and Würtemberg had stoutly refused to part with sovereign power. To
submit to a law of liberty, as it then seemed, was to lose their own separate existence,
The Conference of Ministers at Carlsbad, which in the memory of the German people
is justly associated with the suppression of their liberty for an entire generation, began
and ended in the month of August, 1819. Though attended by the representatives of
eight German Governments, it did little more than register the conclusions which
Metternich had already formed. [294] The zeal with which the envoy of Prussia
supported every repressive measure made it useless for the Ministers of the Minor
Courts to offer an open opposition. Nothing more was required than that the Diet
should formally sanction the propositions thus privately accepted by all the leading
Ministers. On the 20th of September this sanction was given. The Diet, which had sat
for three years without framing a single useful law, ratified all Metternich's oppressive
enactments in as many hours. It was ordered that in every State within the Federation
the Government should take measures for preventing the publication of any journal or
pamphlet except after licence given, and each Government was declared responsible to
the Federation at large for any objectionable writing published within its own territory.
The Sovereigns were required to appoint civil commissioners at the Universities,
whose duty it should be to enforce public order and to give a salutary direction to the
teaching of the professors. They were also required to dismiss all professors who
should overstep the bounds of their duty, and such dismissed persons were prohibited
from being employed in any other State. It was enacted that within fifteen days of the
passing of the decree an extraordinary Commission should assemble at Mainz to
investigate the origin and extent of the secret revolutionary societies which threatened
the safety of the Federation. The Commission was empowered to examine and, if
necessary, to arrest any subject of any German State. All law-courts and other
authorities were required to furnish it with information and with documents, and to
undertake all inquiries which the Commission might order. The Commission, however,
was not a law-court itself: its duty was to report to the Diet, which would then create
such judicial machinery as might be necessary. [295]
In cases where a Government either appealed for help against rebellious subjects, or
was notoriously unable to exert authority, the Diet charged itself with the duty of
maintaining public order.
From this time whatever liberty existed in Germany was to be found in the Minor
States, in Bavaria and Baden, and in Würtemberg, which received a Constitution a few
days before the enrolment of the decrees of Carlsbad. In Prussia the reaction carried
everything before it. Humboldt, the best and most liberal of the Ministers, resigned,
protesting in vain against the ignominious part which the King had determined to play.
He was followed by those of his colleagues whose principles were dearer to them than
their places. Hardenberg remained in office, a dying man, isolated, neglected, thwarted;
clinging to some last hope of redeeming his promises to the Prussian people, yet
jealous of all who could have given him true aid; dishonouring by tenacity of place a
career associated with so much of his country's glory, and ennobled in earlier days by
so much fortitude in time of evil. There gathered around the King a body of men who
could see in the great patriotic efforts and reforms of the last decade nothing but an
encroachment of demagogues on the rights of power. They were willing that Prussia
should receive its orders from Metternich and serve a foreign Court in the work of
repression, rather than that it should take its place at the head of all Germany on the
condition of becoming a free and constitutional State. [298] The stigma of disloyalty
was attached to all who had kindled popular enthusiasm in 1808 and 1812. To have
served the nation was to have sinned against the Government. Stein was protected by
his great name from attack, but not from calumny. His friend Arndt, whose songs and
addresses had so powerfully moved the heart of Germany during the War of Liberation,
was subjected to repeated legal process, and, although unconvicted of any offence, was
suspended from the exercise of his professorship for twenty years. Other persons,
whose fault at the most was to have worked for German unity, were brought before
The pretext made at Carlsbad for this crusade against liberty, which was more
energetically carried out in Prussia than elsewhere, was the existence of a conspiracy or
agitation for the overthrow of Governments and of the present constitution of the
German League. It was stated that proofs existed of the intention to establish by force a
Republic one and indivisible, like that of France in 1793. But the very Commission
which was instituted by the Carlsbad Ministers to investigate the origin and nature of
this conspiracy disproved its existence. The Commission assembled at Mainz,
examined several hundred persons and many thousand documents, and after two years'
labour delivered a report to the Diet. The report went back to the time of Fichte's
lectures and the formation of the Tugendbund in 1808, traced the progress of all the
students' associations and other patriotic societies from that time to 1820; and, while
exhibiting in the worst possible light the aims and conduct of the advocates of German
unity, acknowledged that scarcely a single proof had been discovered of treasonable
practice, and that the loyalty of the mass of the people was itself a sufficient guarantee
against the impulses of the evil-minded. [299] Such was the impression of triviality and
imposture produced at the Diet by this report, that the representatives of several States
proposed that the Commission should forthwith be dissolved as useless and
unnecessary. This, however, could not be tolerated by Metternich and his new
disciples. The Commission was allowed to continue in existence, and with it the regime
of silence and repression. The measures which had been accepted at Carlsbad as
temporary and provisional became more and more a part of the habitual system of
government. Prosecutions succeeded one another; letters were opened; spies attended
the lectures of professors and the meetings of students; the newspapers were
everywhere prohibited from discussing German affairs. In a country where there were
so many printers and so many readers journalism could not altogether expire. It was
still permissible to give the news and to offer an opinion about foreign lands: and for
years to come the Germans, like beggars regaling themselves with the scents from rich
men's kitchens, [300] followed every stage of the political struggles that were agitating
France, England, and Spain, while they were not allowed to express a desire or to
formulate a grievance of their own.
In the year 1822 Hardenberg died. All hope of a fulfilment of the promises made in
Prussia in 1815 had already become extinct. Not many months after the Minister's
death, King Frederick William established the Provincial Estates which had been
recommended to him by Metternich, and announced that the creation of a central
representative system would be postponed until such time as the King should think fit
to introduce it. This meant that the project was finally abandoned; and Prussia in
consequence remained without a Parliament until the Revolution of 1848 was at the
door. The Provincial Estates, with which the King affected to temper absolute rule, met
only once in three years. Their function was to express an opinion upon local matters
[Interest in France.]
But the old harmony between rulers and subjects in Germany perished in the system of
coercion which Metternich established in 1819. Patient as the Germans were, loyal as
they had proved themselves to Frederick William and to worse princes through good
and evil, the galling disappointment of noble hopes, the silencing of the Press, the
dissolution of societies,- calumnies, expulsions, prosecutions,-embittered many an
honest mind against authority. The Commission of Mainz did not find conspirators, but
it made them. As years went by, and all the means of legitimately working for the
improvement of German public life were one after another extinguished, men of ardent
character thought of more violent methods. Secret societies, such as Metternich had
imagined, came into actual being. [301] And among those who neither sank into apathy
and despair nor enrolled themselves against existing power, a new body of ideas
supplanted the old loyal belief in the regeneration of Germany by its princes. The
Parliamentary struggles of France, the revolutionary movements in Italy and in Spain
which began at this epoch, drew the imagination away from that pictured restoration of
a free Teutonic past which had proved so barren of result, and set in its place the idea
of a modern universal or European Liberalism. The hatred against France, especially
among the younger men, disappeared. A distinction was made between the tyrant
Napoleon and the people who were now giving to the rest of the Continent the example
of a free and animated public life, and illuminating the age with a political literature so
systematic and so ingenious that it seemed almost like a political philosophy. The
debates in the French Assembly, the writings of French publicists, became the school
of the Germans. Paris regained in foreign eyes something of the interest that it had
possessed in 1789. Each victory or defeat of the French popular cause awoke the joy or
the sorrow of German Liberals, to whom all was blank at home: and when at length the
throne of the Bourbons fell, the signal for deliverance seemed to have sounded in many
a city beyond the Rhine.
We have seen that in Central Europe the balance between liberty and reaction,
wavering in 1815, definitely fell to the side of reaction at the Congress of
Aix-la-Chapelle. It remains to trace the course of events which in France itself
suspended the peaceful progress of the nation, and threw power for some years into the
hands of a faction which belonged to the past. The measures carried by Decazes in
1817, which gave so much satisfaction to the French, were by no means viewed with
the same approval either at London or at Vienna. The two principal of these were the
Electoral Law, and a plan of military reorganisation which brought back great numbers
of Napoleon's old officers and soldiers to the army. Richelieu, though responsible as
the head of the Ministry, felt very grave fears as to the results of this legislation. He had
already become anxious and distressed when the Congress of Aix-la-Chapelle met; and
the events which took place in France during his absence, as well as the
communications which passed between himself and the foreign Ministers, convinced
him that a change of internal policy was necessary. The busy mind of Metternich had
already been scheming against French Liberalism. Alarmed at the energy shown by
Decazes, the Austrian statesman had formed the design of reconciling Artois and the
Ultra-Royalists to the King's Government; and he now urged Richelieu, if his old
opponents could be brought to reason, to place himself at the head of a coalition of all
the conservative elements in the State. [302] While the Congress of Aix-la-Chapelle
was sitting, the partial elections for the year 1818, the second under the new Electoral
Law, took place. Among the deputies returned there were some who passed for
determined enemies of the Bourbon restoration, especially Lafayette, whose name was
so closely associated with the humiliations of the Court in 1789. Richelieu received the
news with dismay, and on his return to Paris took steps which ended in the dismissal of
Decazes, and the offer of a seat in the Cabinet to Villèle, the Ultra-Royalist leader. But
the attempted combination failed. Richelieu accordingly withdrew from office; and a
new Ministry was formed, of which Decazes, who had proved himself more powerful
than his assailants, was the real though not the nominal chief.
The victory of the young and popular statesman was seen with extreme displeasure by
all the foreign Courts, nor was his success an enduring one. For awhile the current of
Liberal opinion in France and the favour of King Louis XVIII. enabled Decazes to hold
his own against the combinations of his opponents and the ill-will of all the most
powerful men in Europe. An attack made on the Electoral Law by the Upper House
was defeated by the creation of sixty new Peers, among whom there were several who
had been expelled in 1815. But the forces of Liberalism soon passed beyond the
Minister's own control, and his steady dependence upon Louis XVIII. now raised
against him as resolute an opposition among the enemies of the House of Bourbon as
among the Ultra-Royalists. In the elections of 1819 the candidates of the Ministry were
beaten by men of more pronounced opinions. Among the new members there was one
A few months more passed, and an event occurred which might have driven a stronger
Government than that of Louis XVIII. into excesses of reaction. The heirs to the Crown
next in succession to the Count of Artois were his two sons, the Dukes of Angoulême
and Berry. Angoulême was childless; the Duke of Berry was the sole hope of the elder
Bourbon line, which, if he should die without a son, would, as a reigning house,
become extinct, the Crown of France not descending to a female. [304] The
circumstance which made Berry's life so dear to Royalists made his destruction the
all-absorbing purpose of an obscure fanatic, who abhorred the Bourbon family as the
lasting symbol of the foreigner's victory over France. Louvel, a working man, had
followed Napoleon to exile in Elba. After returning to his country he had dogged the
footsteps of the Bourbon princes for years together, waiting for the chance of murder.
On the night of the 13th of February, 1820, he seized the Duke of Berry as he was
leaving the Opera House, and plunged a knife into his breast. The Duke lingered for
some hours, and expired early the next morning in the presence of King Louis XVIII.,
the Princes, and all the Ministers. Terrible as the act was, it was the act of a single
resolute mind: no human being had known of Louvel's intention. But it was impossible
[The Congregation.]
from trust in the orthodoxy of the Count of Artois than from any fixed belief in
absolutist principles. There might be good reason to oppose King Louis XVIII.; but
what priest, what noble, could doubt the divine right of a prince who was ready to
compensate the impoverished emigrants out of the public funds, and to commit the
whole system of public education to the hands of the clergy?
In the middle class of France, which from this time began to feel itself in opposition to
the Bourbon Government, there had been no moral change corresponding to that which
made so great a difference between the governing authority of 1819 and that of 1822.
Public opinion, though strongly affected, was not converted into something
permanently unlike itself by the murder of the Duke of Berry. The courtiers, the
devotees, the great ladies, who had laid a bold hand upon power, had not the nation on
their side, although for a while the nation bore their sway submissively. But the fate of
the Bourbon monarchy was in fact decided when Artois and his confidants became its
representatives. France might have forgotten that the Bourbons owed their throne to
foreign victories; it could not be governed in perpetuity by what was called the Parti
Prêtre. Twenty years taken from the burden of age borne by Louis XVIII., twenty years
of power given to Decazes, might have prolonged the rule of the restored family
perhaps for some generations. If military pride found small satisfaction in the contrast
between the Napoleonic age and that which immediately succeeded it, there were
enough parents who valued the blood of their children, there were enough speakers and
writers who valued the liberty of discussion, enough capitalists who valued quiet times,
for the new order to be recognised as no unhopeful one. France has indeed seldom had
a better government than it possessed between 1816 and 1820, nor could an equal
period be readily named during which the French nation, as a whole, enjoyed greater
happiness.
Political reaction had reached its full tide in Europe generally about five years after the
end of the great war. The phenomena were by no means the same in all countries, nor
were the accidents of personal influence without a large share in the determination of
events: yet, underlying all differences, we may trace the operation of certain great
causes which were not limited by the boundaries of individual States. The classes in
which any fixed belief in constitutional government existed were nowhere very large;
outside the circle of state officials there was scarcely any one who had had experience
in the conduct of public affairs. In some countries, as in Russia and Prussia, the
conception of progress towards self-government had belonged in the first instance to
the holders of power: it had exercised the imagination of a Czar, or appealed to the
understanding of a Prussian Minister, eager, in the extremity of ruin, to develop every
element of worth and manliness existing within his nation. The cooling of a warm
fancy, the disappearance of external dangers, the very agitation which arose when the
idea of liberty passed from the rulers to their subjects, sufficed to check the course of
reform. And by the side of the Kings and Ministers who for a moment had attached
themselves to constitutional theories there stood the old privileged orders, or what
remained of them, the true party of reaction, eager to fan the first misgivings and
alarms of Sovereigns, and to arrest a development more prejudicial to their own power
and importance than to the dignity and security of the Crown. Further, there existed
throughout Europe the fatal and ineradicable tradition of the convulsions of the first
There was also in the very fact that Europe had been restored to peace by the united
efforts of all the governments something adverse to the success of a constitutional or a
Liberal party in any State. Constitutional systems had indeed been much praised at the
Congress of Vienna; but the group of men who actually controlled Europe in 1815, and
who during the five succeeding years continued in correspondence and in close
personal intercourse with one another, had, with one exception, passed their lives in the
atmosphere of absolute government, and learnt to regard the conduct of all great affairs
as the business of a small number of very eminent individuals. Castlereagh, the one
Minister of a constitutional State, belonged to a party which, to a degree almost
unequalled in Europe, identified political duty with the principle of hostility to change.
It is indeed in the correspondence of the English Minister himself, and in relation to
subjects of purely domestic government in England, that the community of thought
which now existed between all the leading statesmen of Europe finds its most singular
exhibition. Both Metternich and Hardenberg took as much interest in the suppression of
Lancashire Radicalism, and in the measures of coercion which the British Government
thought it necessary to pass in the year 1819, as in the chastisement of rebellious
pamphleteers upon the Rhine, and in the dissolution of the students' clubs at Jena. It
was indeed no very great matter for the English people, who were now close upon an
era of reform, that Castlereagh received the congratulations of Vienna and Berlin for
suspending the Habeas Corpus Act and the right of public meeting, [305] or that
Metternich believed that no one but himself knew the real import of the shouts with
which the London mob greeted Sir Francis Burdett. [306] Neither the impending reform
of the English Criminal Law nor the emancipation of Irish Catholics resulted from the
enlightenment of foreign Courts, or could be hindered by their indifference. But on the
Continent of Europe the progress towards constitutional freedom was indeed likely to
be a slow and a chequered one when the Ministers of absolutism formed so close and
intimate a band, when the nations contained within them such small bodies of men in
any degree versed in public affairs, and when the institutions on which it was proposed
to base the liberty of the future were so destitute of that strength which springs from
connection with the past.
CHAPTER XIV.
When the guardians of Europe, at the end of the first three years of peace, scanned from
their council-chamber at Aix-la-Chapelle that goodly heritage which, under
Providence, their own parental care was henceforth to guard against the assaults of
malice and revolution, they had fixed their gaze chiefly on France, Germany, and the
Netherlands, as the regions most threatened by the spirit of change. The forecast was
not an accurate one. In each of these countries Government proved during the
succeeding years to be much more than a match for its real or imaginary foes: it was in
the Mediterranean States, which had excited comparatively little anxiety, that the first
successful attack was made upon established power. Three movements arose
successively in the three southern peninsulas, at the time when Metternich was
enjoying the silence which he had imposed upon Germany, and the Ultra-Royalists of
France were making good the advantage which the crime of an individual and the
imprudence of a party had thrown into their hands. In Spain and in Italy a body of
soldiers rose on behalf of constitutional government: in Greece a nation rose against the
rule of the foreigner. In all three countries the issue of these movements was, after a
longer or shorter interval, determined by the Northern Powers. All three movements
were at first treated as identical in their character, and all alike condemned as the work
of Jacobinism. But the course of events, and a change of persons in the government of
one great State, brought about a truer view of the nature of the struggle in Greece. The
ultimate action of Europe in the affairs of that country was different from its action in
the affairs of Italy and Spain. It is now only remembered as an instance of political
recklessness or stupidity that a conflict of race against race and of religion against
religion should for a while have been confused by some of the leading Ministers of
Europe with the attempt of a party to make the form of domestic government more
liberal. The Hellenic rising had indeed no feature in common with the revolutions of
Naples and Cadiz; and, although in order of time the opening of the Greek movement
long preceded the close of the Spanish movement, the historian, who has neither the
politician's motive for making a confusion, nor the protection of his excuse of
ignorance, must in this case neglect the accidents of chronology, and treat the two as
altogether apart.
But the acquiescence of the mass of the people was not shared by the officers of the
army and the educated classes in the towns. The overthrow of the Constitution was
from the first condemned by soldiers who had won distinction under the government of
the Cortes; and a series of military rebellion, though isolated and on the smallest scale,
showed that the course on which Ferdinand had entered was not altogether free from
danger. The attempts of General Mina in 1814, and of Porlier and Lacy in succeeding
years, to raise the soldiery on behalf of the Constitution, failed, through the
indifference of the soldiery themselves, and the power which the priesthood exercised
in garrison-towns. Discontent made its way in the army by slow degrees; and the
ultimate declaration of a military party against the existing Government was due at
least as much to Ferdinand's absurd system of favouritism, and to the wretched
condition into which the army had been thrown, as to an attachment to the memory or
the principles of constitutional rule. Misgovernment made the treasury bankrupt;
soldiers and sailors received no pay for years together; and the hatred with which the
Spanish people had now come to regard military service is curiously shown by an order
of the Government that all the beggars in Madrid and other great towns should be
seized on a certain night (July 23, 1816), and enrolled in the army. [307] But the very
beggars were more than a match for Ferdinand's administration. They heard of the fate
in store for them, and mysteriously disappeared, so frustrating a measure by which it
had been calculated that Spain would gain sixty thousand warriors.
The military revolution which at length broke out in the year 1820 was closely
connected with the struggle for independence now being made by the American
colonies of Spain; and in its turn it affected the course of this struggle and its final
result. The colonies had refused to accept the rule either of Joseph Bonaparte or of the
Cortes of Cadiz when their legitimate sovereign was dispossessed by Napoleon. While
acting for the most part in Ferdinand's name, they had engaged in a struggle with the
National Government of Spain. They had tasted independence; and although after the
restoration of Ferdinand they would probably have recognised the rights of the Spanish
It was in the army assembled at Cadiz for embarkation in the summer of 1819 that the
conspiracy against Ferdinand's Government found its leaders. Secret societies had now
spread themselves over the principal Spanish towns, and looked to the soldiery on the
coast for the signal of revolt. Abisbal, commander at Cadiz, intending to make himself
safe against all contingencies, encouraged for awhile the plots of the discontented
officers: then, foreseeing the failure of the movement, he arrested the principal men by
a stratagem, and went off to Madrid, to reveal the conspiracy to the Court and to take
credit for saving the King's crown (July, 1819). [310] If the army could have been
immediately despatched to America, the danger would possibly have passed away.
This, however, was prevented by an outbreak of yellow fever, which made it necessary
to send the troops into cantonments for several months. The conspirators gained time to
The first step in the enterprise proved successful. Riego, proclaiming the Constitution
of 1812, surprised the headquarters, seized the generals, and rallied several companies
to his standard. Quiroga, however, though he gained possession of San Fernando, at the
eastern end of the peninsula of Leon, on which Cadiz is situated, failed to make his
entrance into Cadiz. The commandant, hearing of the capture of the head-quarters, had
closed the city gates, and arrested the principal inhabitants whom he suspected of being
concerned in the plot. The troops within the town showed no sign of mutiny. Riego,
when he arrived at the peninsula of Leon, found that only five thousand men in all had
joined the good cause, while Cadiz, with a considerable garrison and fortifications of
great strength, stood hostile before him. He accordingly set off with a small force to
visit and win over the other regiments which were lying in the neighbouring towns and
villages. The commanders, however, while not venturing to attack the mutineers, drew
off their troops to a distance, and prevented them from entering into any
communication with Riego. The adventurous soldier, leaving Quiroga in the peninsula
of Leon, then marched into the interior of Andalusia (January 27), endeavouring to
raise the inhabitants of the towns. But the small numbers of his band, and the
knowledge that Cadiz and the greater part of the army still held by the Government,
prevented the inhabitants from joining the insurrection, even where they received
Riego with kindness and supplied the wants of his soldiers. During week after week the
little column traversed the country, now cut off from retreat, exhausted by forced
marches in drenching rain, and harassed by far stronger forces sent in pursuit. The last
town that Riego entered was Cordova. The enemy was close behind him. No halt was
possible. He led his band, now numbering only two hundred men, into the mountains,
and there bade them disperse (March 11).
With Quiroga lying inactive in the peninsula of Leon and Riego hunted from village to
village, it seemed as if the insurrection which they had begun could only end in the ruin
of its leaders. But the movement had in fact effected its object. While the courtiers
around King Ferdinand, unwarned by the news from Cadiz, continued their intrigues
It was now clear that the cause of absolute monarchy was lost. The ferment in Madrid
increased. On the night of the 6th of March all the great bodies of State assembled for
council in the King's palace, and early on the 7th Ferdinand published a proclamation,
stating that he had determined to summon the Cortes immediately. This declaration
satisfied no one, for the Cortes designed by the King might be the mere revival of a
mediæval form, and the history of 1814 showed how little value was to be attached to
Ferdinand's promises. Crowds gathered in the great squares of Madrid, crying for the
Constitution of 1812. The statement of the Minister of War that the Guard was on the
point of joining the people now overcame even the resistance of Don Carlos and the
confessors; and after a day wasted in dispute, Ferdinand announced to his people that
he was ready to take the oath to the Constitution which they desired. The next day was
given up to public rejoicings; the book of the Constitution was carried in procession
through the city with the honours paid to the Holy Sacrament, and all political prisoners
were set at liberty. The prison of the Inquisition was sacked, the instruments of torture
broken in pieces. On the 9th the leaders of the agitation took steps to make the King
fulfil his promise. A mob invaded the court and threshold of the palace. At their
demand the municipal council of 1814 was restored; its members were sent, in
company with six deputies chosen by the populace, to receive the pledges of the King.
Ferdinand, all smiles and bows, while he looked forward to the day when force or
intrigue should make him again absolute master of Spain, and enable him to take
vengeance upon the men who were humiliating, him, took the oath of fidelity to the
Constitution of 1812. [311] New Ministers were immediately called to office, and a
provisional Junta was placed by their side as the representative of the public until the
new Cortes should be duly elected.
Tidings of the Spanish revolution passed rapidly over Europe, disquieting the courts
and everywhere reviving the hopes of the friends of popular right. Before four months
had passed, the constitutional movement begun in Cadiz was taken up in Southern
But the legal and recognised changes which followed Ferdinand's return by no means
expressed the whole change in the operation of government. If there were not two
conflicting systems at work, there were two conflicting bodies of partisans in the State.
Like the emigrants who returned with Louis XVIII., a multitude of Neapolitans, high
and low, who had either accompanied the King in his exile to Sicily or fought for him
on the mainland in 1799 and 1806, now expected their reward. In their interest the
efficiency of the public service was sacrificed and the course of justice perverted. Men
who had committed notorious crimes escaped punishment if they had been numbered
among the King's friends; the generals and officials who had served under Murat,
though not removed from their posts, were treated with discourtesy and suspicion. It
was in the army most of all that the antagonism of the two parties was felt. A medal
was struck for service in Sicily, and every year spent there in inaction was reckoned as
two in computing seniority. Thus the younger officers of Murat found their way
blocked by a troop of idlers, and at the same time their prospects suffered from the
honest attempts made by Ministers to reduce the military expenditure. Discontent
existed in every rank. The generals were familiar with the idea of political change, for
during the last years of Murat's reign they had themselves thought of compelling him to
grant a Constitution: the younger officers and the sergeants were in great part members
of the secret society of the Carbonari, which in the course of the last few years had
grown with the weakness of the Government, and had now become the principal power
in the Neapolitan kingdom.
The origin of this society, which derived its name and its symbolism from the trade of
the charcoal-burner, as Freemasonry from that of the builder, is uncertain. Whether its
first aim was resistance to Bourbon tyranny after 1799, or the expulsion of the French
and Austrians from Italy, in the year 1814 it was actively working for constitutional
government in opposition to Murat, and receiving encouragement from Sicily, where
Ferdinand was then playing the part of constitutional King. The maintenance of
absolute government by the restored Bourbon Court severed the bond which for a time
existed between legitimate monarchy and conspiracy; and the lodges of the Carbonari,
now extending themselves over the country with great rapidity, became so many
centres of agitation against despotic rule. By the year 1819 it was reckoned that one
person out of every twenty-five in the kingdom of Naples had joined the society. Its
members were drawn from all classes, most numerously perhaps from the middle class
in the towns; but even priests had been initiated, and there was no branch of the public
service that had not Carbonari in its ranks. The Government, apprehending danger from
the extension of the sect, tried to counteract it by founding a rival society of Calderari,
or Braziers, in which every miscreant who before 1815 had murdered and robbed in the
name of King Ferdinand and the Catholic faith received a welcome. But though the
number of such persons was not small, the growth of this fraternity remained far behind
that of its model; and the chief result of the competition was that intrigue and mystery
gained a greater charm than ever for the Italians, and that all confidence in Government
perished, under the sense that there was a hidden power in the land which was only
awaiting the due moment to put forth its strength in revolutionary action.
The King was on board ship in the bay, when, in the afternoon of July 2nd, intelligence
came of Morelli's revolt at Nola. Nothing was done by the Ministry on that day,
Ferdinand's action was taken by the people as a stratagem. He had employed the device
of a temporary abdication some years before in cajoling the Sicilians; and the delay of
eight days seemed unnecessary to ardent souls who knew that a Spanish Constitution
was in existence and did not know of its defects in practice. There was also on the side
of the Carbonari the telling argument that Ferdinand, as a possible successor to his
nephew, the childless King of Spain, actually had signed the Spanish Constitution in
order to preserve his own contingent rights to that crown. What Ferdinand had accepted
as Infante of Spain he might well accept as King of Naples. The cry was therefore for
the immediate proclamation of the Spanish Constitution of 1812. The court yielded,
and the Duke of Calabria, as viceroy, published an edict making this Constitution the
law of the kingdom of the Two Sicilies. But the tumult continued, for deceit was still
feared, until the edict appeared again, signed by the King himself. Then all was
rejoicing. Pepe, at the head of a large body of troops, militia and Carbonari, made a
triumphal entry into the city, and, in company with Morelli and other leaders of the
military rebellion, was hypocritically thanked by the Viceroy for his services to the
nation. On the 13th of July the King, a hale but venerable-looking man of seventy, took
the oath to the Constitution before the altar in the royal chapel. The form of words had
been written out for him; but Ferdinand was fond of theatrical acts of religion, and did
not content himself with reading certain solemn phrases. Raising his eyes to the
crucifix above the altar, he uttered aloud a prayer that if the oath was not sincerely
taken the vengeance of God might fall upon his head. Then, after blessing and
embracing his sons, the venerable monarch wrote to the Emperor of Austria, protesting
that all that he did was done under constraint, and that his obligations were null and
void. [314]
The grievances of the Portuguese army made it the natural centre of disaffection, but
the military conspirators had their friends among all classes. On the 24th of August,
1820, the signal of revolt was given at Oporto. Priests and magistrates, as well as the
town-population, united with officers of the army in declaring against the Regency, and
in establishing a provisional Junta, charged with the duty of carrying on the
government in the name of the King until the Cortes should assemble and frame a
Constitution. No resistance was offered by any of the civil or military authorities at
Oporto. The Junta entered upon its functions, and began by dismissing all English
officers, and making up the arrears of pay due to the soldiers. As soon as the news of
the revolt reached Lisbon, the Regency itself volunteered to summon the Cortes, and
attempted to conciliate the remainder of the army by imitating the measures of the
Junta of Oporto. [315] The troops, however, declined to act against their comrades, and
on the 15th of September the Regency was deposed, and a provisional Junta installed in
the capital. Beresford, who now returned from Brazil, was forbidden to set foot on
Portuguese soil. The two rival governing-committees of Lisbon and Oporto coalesced;
It was the boast of the Spanish and Italian Liberals that the revolutions effected in 1820
were undisgraced by the scenes of outrage which had followed the capture of the
Bastille and the overthrow of French absolutism thirty years before. [316] The gentler
character of these southern movements proved, however, no extenuation in the eyes of
the leading statesmen of Europe: on the contrary, the declaration of soldiers in favour
of a Constitution seemed in some quarters more ominous of evil than any excess of
popular violence. The alarm was first sounded at St. Petersburg. As soon as the Czar
heard of Riego's proceedings at Cadiz, he began to meditate intervention; and when it
was known that Ferdinand had been forced to accept the Constitution of 1812, he
ordered his ambassadors to propose that all the Great Powers, acting through their
Ministers at Paris, should address a remonstrance to the representative of Spain,
requiring the Cortes to disavow the crime of the 8th of March, by which they had been
called into being, and to offer a pledge of obedience to their King by enacting the most
rigorous laws against sedition and revolt. [317] In that case, and in that alone, the Czar
desired to add, would the Powers maintain their relations of confidence and amity with
Spain.
This Russian proposal was viewed with some suspicion at Vienna; it was answered
with a direct and energetic negative from London. Canning was still in the Ministry.
The words with which in 1818 he had protested against a league between England and
autocracy were still ringing in the ears of his colleagues. Lord Liverpool's Government
knew itself to be unpopular in the country; every consideration of policy as well as of
self-interest bade it resist the beginnings of an intervention which, if confined to words,
was certain to be useless, and, if supported by action, was likely to end in that alliance
between France and Russia which had been the nightmare of English statesmen ever
since 1814, and in a second occupation of Spain by the very generals whom Wellington
had spent so many years in dislodging. Castlereagh replied to the Czar's note in terms
which made it clear that England would never give its sanction to a collective
interference with Spain. [318] Richelieu, the nominal head of the French Government,
felt too little confidence in his position to act without the concurrence of Great Britain;
and the crusade of absolutism against Spanish liberty was in consequence postponed
until the victory of the Ultra-Royalists at Paris was complete, and the overthrow of
Richelieu had brought to the head of the French State a group of men who felt no
scruple in entering upon an aggressive war.
[Austria.]
But the shelter of circumstances which for a while protected Spain from the foreigner
did not extend to Italy, when in its turn the Neapolitan revolution called a northern
enemy into the field. Though the kingdom of the Two Sicilies was in itself much less
important than Spain, the established order of the Continent was more directly
threatened by a change in its government. No European State was exposed to the same
danger from a revolution in Madrid as Austria from a revolution in Naples. The Czar
had invoked the action of the Courts against Spain, not because his own dominions
were in peril, but because the principle of monarchical right was violated: with Austria
the danger pressed nearer home. The establishment of constitutional liberty in Naples
was almost certain to be followed by an insurrection in the Papal States and a national
uprising in the Venetian provinces; and among all the bad results of Austria's false
position in Italy, one of the worst was that in self-defence it was bound to resist every
step made towards political liberty beyond its own frontier. The dismay with which
Metternich heard of the collapse of absolute government at Naples [319] was
understood and even shared by the English Ministry, who at this moment were
deprived of their best guide by Canning's withdrawal. Austria, in peace just as much as
in war, had uniformly been held to be the natural ally of England against the two
aggressive Courts of Paris and St. Petersburg. It seemed perfectly right and natural to
Lord Castlereagh that Austria, when its own interests were endangered by the
establishment of popular sovereignty at Naples, should intervene to restore King
Ferdinand's power; the more so as the secret treaty of 1815, by which Metternich had
bound this sovereign to maintain absolute monarchy, had been communicated to the
ambassador of Great Britain, and had received his approval. But the right to intervene
in Italy belonged, according to Lord Castlereagh, to Austria alone. The Sovereigns of
Europe had no more claim, as a body, to interfere with Naples than they had to
interfere with Spain. Therefore, while the English Government sanctioned and even
desired the intervention of Austria, as a State acting in protection of its own interests
against revolution in a neighbouring country, it refused to sanction any joint
intervention of the European Powers, and declared itself opposed to the meeting of a
Congress where any such intervention might be discussed. [320]
Had Metternich been free to follow his own impulses, he would have thrown an army
into Southern Italy as soon as soldiers and stores could be collected, and have made an
end of King Ferdinand's troubles forthwith. It was, however, impossible for him to
disregard the wishes of the Czar, and to abandon all at once the system of corporate
action, which was supposed to have done such great things for Europe. [321] A meeting
of sovereigns and Ministers was accordingly arranged, and at the end of October the
Emperor of Austria received the Czar and King Frederick William in the little town of
Troppau, in Moravia. France had itself first recommended the summoning of a
Congress to deal with Neapolitan affairs, and it was believed for a while that England
would be isolated in its resistance to a joint intervention. But before the Congress
assembled, the firm language of the English Ministry had drawn Richelieu over to its
side; [322] and although one of the two French envoys made himself the agent of the
Ultra-Royalist faction, it was not possible for him to unite his country with the three
Eastern Courts. France, through the weakness of its Government and the dissension
between its representatives, counted for nothing at the Congress. England sent its
ambassador from Vienna, but with instructions to act as an observer and little more;
and in consequence the meeting at Troppau resolved itself into a gathering of the three
Eastern autocrats and their Ministers. As Prussia had ceased to have any independent
foreign policy whatever, Metternich needed only to make certain of the support of the
Czar in order to range on his side the entire force of eastern and central Europe in the
restoration of Neapolitan despotism.
The plan of the Austrian statesman was not, however, to be realised without some
effort. Alexander had watched with jealousy Metternich's recent assumption of a
dictatorship over the minor German Courts; he had never admitted Austria's right to
dominate in Italy; and even now some vestiges of his old attachment to liberal theories
made him look for a better solution of the Neapolitan problem than in that restoration
of despotism pure and simple which Austria desired. While condemning every attempt
of a people to establish its own liberties, Alexander still believed that in some countries
sovereigns would do well to make their subjects a grant of what he called sage and
liberal institutions. It would have pleased him best if the Neapolitans could have been
induced by peaceful means to abandon their Constitution, and to accept in return
certain chartered rights as a gift from their King; and the concurrence of the two
Western Powers might in this case possibly have been regained. This project of a
compromise, by which Ferdinand would have been freed from his secret engagement
with Austria, was exactly what Metternich desired to frustrate. He found himself
matched, and not for the first time, against a statesman who was even more subtle than
himself. This was Count Capodistrias, a Greek who from a private position had risen to
be Foreign Minister of Russia, and was destined to become the first sovereign, in
reality if not in title, of his native land. Capodistrias, the sympathetic partner of the
Czar's earlier hopes, had not travelled so fast as his master along the reactionary road.
He still represented what had been the Italian policy of Alexander some years before,
and sought to prevent the re-establishment of absolute rule at Naples, at least by the
armed intervention of Austria. Metternich's first object was to discredit the Minister in
the eyes of his sovereign. It is said that he touched the Czar's keenest fears in a
conversation relating to a mutiny that had just taken place among the troops at St.
Petersburg, and so in one private interview cut the ground from under Capodistrias'
feet; he also humoured the Czar by reviving that monarch's own favourite scheme for a
mutual guarantee of all the Powers against revolution in any part of Europe. Alexander
had proposed in 1818 that the Courts should declare resistance to authority in any
country to be a violation of European peace, entitling the Allied Powers, if they should
think fit, to suppress it by force of arms. This doctrine, which would have empowered
the Czar to throw the armies of a coalition upon London if the Reform Bill had been
carried by force, had hitherto failed to gain international acceptance owing to the
opposition of Great Britain. It was now formally accepted by Austria and Prussia.
Alexander saw the federative system of European monarchy, with its principle of
collective intervention, recognised as an established fact by at least three of the great
Powers; [323] and in return he permitted Metternich to lay down the lines which, in the
case of Naples, this intervention should follow. It was determined to invite King
Ferdinand to meet his brother-sovereigns at Laibach, in the Austrian province of
Carniola, and through him to address a summons to the Neapolitan people, requiring
them, in the name of the three Powers, and under threat of invasion, to abandon their
Constitution. This determination was announced, as a settled matter, to the envoys of
England and France; and a circular was issued from Troppau by the three Powers to all
the Courts of Europe (Dec. 8), embodying the doctrine of federative intervention, and
expressing a hope that England and France would approve its immediate application in
the case of Naples. [324]
[Protest of England.]
There was no ground whatever for this hope with regard to England. On the contrary,
in proportion as the three Courts strengthened their union and insisted on their claim to
joint jurisdiction over Europe, they drove England away from them. Lord Castlereagh
had at first promised the moral support of this country to Austria in its enterprise
against Naples; but when this enterprise ceased to be the affair of Austria alone, and
became part of the police-system of the three despotisms, it was no longer possible for
the English Government to view it with approval or even with silence. The promise of
a moral support was withdrawn: England declared that it stood strictly neutral with
regard to Naples, and protested against the doctrine contained in the Troppau circular,
that a change of government in any State gave the Allied Powers the right to intervene.
[325]
France made no such protest; but it was still hoped at Paris that an Austrian invasion of
Southern Italy, so irritating to French pride, might be averted. King Louis XVIII.
endeavoured, but in vain, to act the part of mediator, and to reconcile the Neapolitan
House of Bourbon at once with its own subjects and with the Northern Powers.
The summons went out from the Congress to King Ferdinand to appear at Laibach. It
found him enjoying all the popularity of a constitutional King, surrounded by Ministers
who had governed under Murat, exchanging compliments with a democratic
Parliament, lavishing distinctions upon the men who had overthrown his authority, and
swearing to everything that was set before him. As the Constitution prohibited the King
from leaving the country without the consent of the Legislature, it was necessary for
Ferdinand to communicate to Parliament the invitation which he had received from the
Powers, and to take a vote of the Assembly on the subject of his journey. Ferdinand's
Ministers possessed some political experience; they recognised that it would be
impossible to maintain the existing Constitution against the hostility of three great
States, and hoped that the Parliament would consent to Ferdinand's departure on
condition that he pledged himself to uphold certain specified principles of free
government. A message to the Assembly was accordingly made public, in which the
King expressed his desire to mediate with the Powers on this basis. But the Ministers
had not reckoned with the passions of the people. As soon as it became known that
Ferdinand was about to set out, the leaders of the Carbonari mustered their bands. A
host of violent men streamed into Naples from the surrounding country. The Parliament
was intimidated, and Ferdinand was prohibited from leaving Naples until he had sworn
to maintain the Constitution actually in force, that, namely, which Naples had borrowed
from Spain. Ferdinand, whose only object was to escape from the country as quickly as
possible, took the oath with his usual effusions of patriotism. He then set out for
Leghorn, intending to cross from thence into Northern Italy. No sooner had he reached
the Tuscan port than he addressed a letter to each of the five principal sovereigns of
Europe, declaring that his last acts were just as much null and void as all his earlier
ones. He made no attempt to justify, or to excuse, or even to explain his conduct; nor is
there the least reason to suppose that he considered the perjuries of a prince to require a
justification. "These sorry protests," wrote the secretary of the Congress of Troppau,
"will happily remain secret. No Cabinet will be anxious to draw them from the
sepulchre of its archives. Till then there is not much harm done."
[Ferdinand at Laibach.]
Ferdinand reached Laibach, where the Czar rewarded him for the fatigues of his
journey by a present of some Russian bears. His arrival was peculiarly agreeable to
Metternich, whose intentions corresponded exactly with his own; and the fact that he
had been compelled to swear to maintain the Spanish Constitution at Naples acted
favourably for the Austrian Minister, inasmuch as it enabled him to say to all the world
that negotiation was now out of the question. [326] Capodistrias, brought face to face
with failure, twisted about, according to his rival's expression, like a devil in holy
water, but all in vain. It was decided that Ferdinand should be restored as absolute
monarch by an Austrian army, and that, whether the Neapolitans resisted or submitted,
their country should be occupied by Austrian troops for some years to come. The only
difficulty remaining was to vest King Ferdinand's conduct in some respectable
disguise. Capodistrias, when nothing else was to be gained, offered to invent an entire
correspondence, in which Ferdinand should proudly uphold the Constitution to which
he had sworn, and protest against the determination of the Powers to force the sceptre
of absolutism back into his hand. [327] This device, however, was thought too
transparent. A letter was sent in the King's name to his son, the Duke of Calabria,
stating that he had found the three Powers determined not to tolerate an order of things
sprung from revolution; that submission alone would avert war; but that even in case of
submission certain securities for order, meaning the occupation of the country by an
Austrian army, would be exacted. The letter concluded with the usual promises of
reform and good government. It reached Naples on the 9th of February, 1821. No
answer was either expected or desired. On the 6th the order had been given to the
Austrian army to cross the Po.
There was little reason to fear any serious resistance on the part of the Neapolitans. The
administration of the State was thoroughly disorganised; the agitation of the secret
societies had destroyed all spirit of obedience among the soldiers; a great part of the
army was absent in Sicily, keeping guard over a people who, under wiser management,
might have doubled the force which Naples now opposed to the invader. When the
despotic government of Ferdinand was overthrown, the island of Sicily, or that part of
it which was represented by Palermo, had claimed the separate political existence
which it had possessed between 1806 and 1815, offering to remain united to Naples in
the person of the sovereign, but demanding a National Parliament and a National
Constitution of its own. The revolutionary Ministers of Naples had, however, no more
There was a moment in the campaign of Austria against Naples when the invading
army was threatened with the most serious danger. An insurrection broke out in
Piedmont, and the troops of that country attempted to unite with the patriotic party of
Lombardy in a movement which would have thrown all Northern Italy upon the rear of
the Austrians. In the first excess of alarm, the Czar ordered a hundred thousand
Russians to cross the Galician frontier, and to march in the direction of the Adriatic. It
proved unnecessary, however, to continue this advance. The Piedmontese army was
divided against itself; part proclaimed the Spanish Constitution, and, on the abdication
of the King, called upon his cousin, the Regent, Charles Albert of Carignano, to march
against the Austrians; part adhered to the rightful heir, the King's brother, Charles
Felix, who was absent at Modena, and who, with an honesty in strong contrast to the
frauds of the Neapolitan Court, refused to temporise with rebels, or to make any
compromise with the Constitution. The scruples of the Prince of Carignano, after he
had gone some way with the military party of action, paralysed the movement of
Northern Italy. Unsupported by Piedmontese troops, the conspirators of Milan failed to
Thus the victory of absolutism was completed, and the law was laid down to Europe
that a people seeking its liberties elsewhere than in the grace and spontaneous
generosity of its legitimate sovereign became a fit object of attack for the armies of the
three Great Powers. It will be seen in a later chapter how Metternich persuaded the
Czar to include under the anathema issued by the Congress of Laibach (May, 1821)
[330] the outbreak of the Greeks, which at this moment began, and how Lord
Castlereagh supported the Austrian Minister in denying to these rebels against the
Sultan all right or claim to the consideration of Europe. Spain was for the present left
unmolested; but the military operations of 1821 prepared the way for a similar crusade
against that country by occasioning the downfall of Richelieu's Ministry, and throwing
the government of France entirely into the hands of the Ultra-Royalists. All parties in
the French Chamber, whether they condemned or approved the suppression of
Neapolitan liberty, censured a policy which had kept France in inaction, and made
Austria supreme in Italy. The Ultra-Royalists profited by the general discontent to
overthrow the Minister whom they had promised to support (Dec., 1821); and from this
time a war with Spain, conducted either by France alone or in combination with the
three Eastern Powers, became the dearest hope of the rank and file of the dominant
faction. Villèle, their nominal chief, remained what he had been before, a statesman
among fanatics, and desired to maintain the attitude of observation as long as this
should be possible. A body of troops had been stationed on the southern frontier in
1820 to prevent all intercourse with the Spanish districts afflicted with the yellow
fever. This epidemic had passed away, but the number of the troops was now raised to
a hundred thousand. It was, however, the hope of Villèle that hostilities might be
averted unless the Spaniards should themselves provoke a combat, or, by resorting to
extreme measures against King Ferdinand, should compel Louis XVIII. to intervene on
behalf of his kinsman. The more violent section of the French Cabinet, represented by
Montmorency, the Foreign Minister, called for an immediate march on Madrid, or
proposed to delay operations only until France should secure the support of the other
Continental Powers.
The condition of Spain in the year 1822 gave ample encouragement to those who
longed to employ the arms of France in the royalist cause. The hopes of peaceful
reform, which for the first few months after the revolution had been shared even by
foreign politicians at Madrid, had long vanished. In the moment of popular victory
Ferdinand had brought the leaders of the Cortes from their prisons and placed them in
office. These men showed a dignified forgetfulness of the injuries which they had
suffered. Misfortune had calmed their impetuosity, and taught them more of the real
The attack of the despotic Courts on Naples in the spring of 1821 heightened the fury
of parties in Spain, encouraging the Serviles, or Absolutists, in their plots, and forcing
the Ministry to yield to the cry for more violent measures against the enemies of the
Constitution. In the south of Spain the Exaltados gained possession of the principal
military and civil commands, and openly refused obedience to the central
administration when it attempted to interfere with their action Seville, Carthagena, and
Cadiz acted as if they were independent Republics and even spoke of separation from
Spain. Defied by its own subordinates in the provinces, and unable to look to the King
for any sincere support, the moderate governing party lost all hold upon the nation. In
the Cortes elected in 1822 the Exaltados formed the majority, and Riego was appointed
President. Ferdinand now began to concert measures of action with the French
Ultra-Royalists. The Serviles, led by priests, and supported by French money, broke
into open rebellion in the north. When the session of the Cortes ended, the King
attempted to overthrow his enemies by military force. Three battalions of the Royal
Guard, which had been withdrawn from Madrid, received secret orders to march upon
the capital (July 6, 1822), where Ferdinand was expected to place himself at their head.
They were, however, met and defeated in the streets by other regiments, and Ferdinand,
vainly attempting to dissociate himself from the action of his partisans, found his
crown, if not his life, in peril. He wrote to Louis XVIII. that he was a prisoner. Though
the French King gave nothing more than good counsel, the Ultra-Royalists in the
French Cabinet and in the army now strained every nerve to accelerate a war between
the two countries. The Spanish Absolutists seized the town of Seo d'Urgel, and there
set up a provisional government. Civil war spread over the northern provinces. The
When the Congress of Laibach broke up in the spring of 1821. its members determined
to renew their meeting in the following year, in order to decide whether the Austrian
army might then be withdrawn from Naples, and to discuss other questions affecting
their common interests. The progress of the Greek insurrection and a growing strife
between Russia and Turkey had since then thrown all Italian difficulties into the shade.
The Eastern question stood in the front rank of European politics; next in importance
came the affairs of Spain. It was certain that these, far more than the occupation of
Naples, would supply the real business of the Congress of 1822. England had a far
greater interest in both questions than in the Italian negotiations of the two previous
years. It was felt that the system of abstention which England had then followed could
be pursued no longer, and that the country must be represented not by some casual and
wandering diplomatist, but by its leading Minister, Lord Castlereagh. The intentions of
the other Powers in regard to Spain were matter of doubt; it was the fixed policy of
Great Britain to leave the Spanish revolution in Europe to run its own course, and to
persuade the other Powers to do the same. But the difficulties connected with Spain did
not stop at the Spanish frontier. The South American colonies had now in great part
secured their independence. They had developed a trade with Great Britain which made
it impossible for this country to ignore their flag and the decisions of their law courts.
The British navigation-laws had already been modified by Parliament in favour of their
shipping; and although it was no business of the English Government to grant a formal
title to communities which had made themselves free, the practical recognition of the
American States by the appointment of diplomatic agents could in several cases not be
justly delayed. Therefore, without interfering with any colonies which were still
fighting or still negotiating with Spain, the British Minister proposed to inform the
Allied cabinets of the intention of this country to accredit agents to some of the South
American Republics, and to recommend to them the adoption of a similar policy.
Such was the tenour of the instructions which, a few weeks before his expected
departure for the Continent, Castlereagh drew up for his own guidance, and submitted
to the Cabinet and the King. [332] Had he lived to fulfil the mission with which he was
charged, the recognition of the South American Republics, which adds so bright a ray
to the fame of Canning, would probably have been the work of the man who, more than
any other, is associated in popular belief with the traditions of a hated and outworn
system of oppression. Two more years of life, two more years of change in the relations
of England to the Continent, would have given Castlereagh a different figure in the
history both of Greece and of America. No English statesman in modern times has been
The vacant post was filled by Canning, by far the most gifted of the band of statesmen
who had begun their public life in the school of Pitt. Wellington undertook to represent
England at the Congress of 1822, which was now about to open at Vienna. His
departure was, however, delayed for several weeks, and the preliminary meeting, at
which it had been intended to transact all business not relating to Italy, was almost over
before his arrival. Wellington accordingly travelled on to Verona, where Italian affairs
were to be dealt with; and the Italian Conference, which the British Government had
not intended to recognise, thus became the real Congress of 1822. Anxious as Lord
Castlereagh had been on the question of foreign interference with Spain, he hardly
understood the imminence of the danger. In passing through Paris, Wellington learnt
for the first time that a French or European invasion of Spain would be the foremost
object of discussion among the Powers; and on reaching Verona he made the
unwelcome discovery that the Czar was bent upon sending a Russian army to take part,
as the mandatary of Europe, in overthrowing the Spanish Constitution. Alexander's
desire was to obtain a joint declaration from the Congress like that which had been
issued against Naples by the three Courts at Troppau, but one even more formidable,
since France might be expected in the present case to give its concurrence, which had
been withheld before. France indeed occupied, according to the absolutist theory of the
day, the same position in regard to a Jacobin Spain as Austria in regard to a Jacobin
Naples, and might perhaps claim to play the leading military part in the crusade of
repression. But the work was likely to be a much more difficult one than that of 1821.
The French troops, said the Czar, were not trustworthy; and there was a party in France
which might take advantage of the war to proclaim the second Napoleon or the
Republic. King Louis XVIII. could not therefore be allowed to grapple with Spain
alone. It was necessary that the principal force employed by the alliance should be one
whose loyalty and military qualities were above suspicion: the generals who had
marched from Moscow to Paris were not likely to fail beyond the Pyrenees: and a
campaign of the Russian army in Western Europe promised to relieve the Czar of some
of the discontent of his soldiers, who had been turned back after entering Galicia in the
previous year, and who had not been allowed to assist their fellow-believers in Greece
in their struggle against the Sultan. [334]
Wellington had ascertained, while in Paris, that King Louis XVIII. and Villèle were
determined under no circumstances to give Russian troops a passage through France.
His knowledge of this fact enabled him to speak with some confidence to Alexander. It
was the earnest desire of the English Government to avert war, and its first object was
therefore to prevent the Congress, as a body, from sending an ultimatum to Spain. If all
the Powers united in a declaration like that of Troppau, war was inevitable; if France
were left to settle its own disputes with its neighbour, English mediation might possibly
preserve peace. The statement of Wellington, that England would rather sever itself
from the great alliance than consent to a joint declaration against Spain, had no doubt
its effect in preventing such a declaration being proposed; but a still weightier reason
against it was the direct contradiction between the intentions of the French Government
and those of the Czar. If the Czar was determined to be the soldier of Europe, while on
the other hand King Louis absolutely denied him a passage through France, it was
impossible that the Congress should threaten Spain with a collective attack. No great
expenditure of diplomacy was therefore necessary to prevent the summary framing of a
decree against Spain like that which had been framed against Naples two years before.
In the first despatches which he sent back to England Wellington expressed his belief
that the deliberations of the Powers would end in a decision to leave the Spaniards to
themselves.
But the danger was only averted in appearance. The impulse to war was too strong
among the French Ultra-Royalists for the Congress to keep silence on Spanish affairs.
Villèle indeed still hoped for peace, and, unlike other members of his Cabinet, he
desired that, if war should arise, France should maintain entire freedom of action, and
enter upon the struggle as an independent Power, not as the instrument of the European
concert. This did not prevent him, however, from desiring to ascertain what assistance
would be forthcoming, if France should be hard pressed by its enemy. Instructions were
given to the French envoys at Verona to sound the Allies on this question. [335] It was
out of the inquiry so suggested that a negotiation sprang which virtually combined all
Europe against Spain. The envoy Montmorency, acting in the spirit of the war party,
demanded of all the Powers whether, in the event of France withdrawing its
ambassador from Madrid, they would do the same, and whether, in case of war, France
would receive their moral and material support. Wellington in his reply protested
against the framing of hypothetical cases; the other envoys answered Montmorency's
questions in the affirmative. The next step was taken by Metternich, who urged that
certain definite acts of the Spanish people or Government ought to be specified as
rendering war obligatory on France and its allies, and also that, with a view of
strengthening the Royalist party in Spain, notes ought to be presented by all the
ambassadors at Madrid, demanding a change in the Constitution. This proposal was in
its turn submitted to Wellington and rejected by him. It was accepted by the other
plenipotentiaries, and the acts of the Spanish people were specified on which war
should necessarily follow. These were, the commission of any act of violence against a
member of the royal family, the deposition of the King, or an attempt to change the
dynasty. A secret clause was added to the second part of the agreement, to the effect
that if the Spanish Government made no satisfactory answer to the notes requiring a
change in the Constitution, all the ambassadors should be immediately withdrawn. A
draft of the notes to be presented was sketched; and Montmorency, who thought that he
had probably gone too far in his stipulations, returned to Paris to submit the drafts to
the King before handing them over to the ambassadors at Paris for transmission to
Madrid.
It was with great dissatisfaction that Villèle saw how his colleague had committed
France to the direction of the three Eastern Powers. There was no likelihood that the
Spanish Government would make the least concession of the kind required, and in that
case France stood pledged, if the action of Montmorency was ratified, to withdraw its
ambassador from Madrid at once. Villèle accordingly addressed himself to the
ambassadors at Paris, asking that the despatch of the notes might be postponed. No
notice was taken of his request: the notes were despatched forthwith. Roused by this
slight, Villèle appealed to the King not to submit to the dictation of foreign Courts.
Louis XVIII. declared in his favour against all the rest of the Cabinet, and
Montmorency had to retire from office. But the decision of the King meant that he
disapproved of the negotiations of Verona as shackling the movements of France, not
that he had freed himself from the influence of the war-party. Chateaubriand, the most
reckless agitator for hostilities, was appointed Foreign Minister. The mediation of
Great Britain was rejected; [336] and in his speech at the opening of the Chambers of
1823, King Louis himself virtually published the declaration of war.
[England in 1823.]
The ambassadors of the three Eastern Courts had already presented their notes at
Madrid demanding a change in the Constitution; and, after receiving a high-spirited
answer from the Ministers, they had quitted the country. Canning, while using every
diplomatic effort to prevent an unjust war, had made it clear to the Spaniards that
England could not render them armed assistance. The reasons against such an
intervention were indeed overwhelming. Russia, Austria, and Prussia would have taken
the field rather than have permitted the Spanish Constitution to triumph; and although,
if leagued with Spain in a really national defence like that of 1808, Great Britain might
perhaps have protected the Peninsula against all the Powers of Europe combined, it was
far otherwise when the cause at stake was one to which a majority of the Spanish
nation had shown itself to be indifferent, and against which the northern provinces had
actually taken up arms. The Government and the Cortes were therefore left to defend
themselves as best they could against their enemies. They displayed their weakness by
enacting laws of extreme severity against deserters, and by retiring, along with the
recalcitrant King, from Madrid to Seville. On the 7th of April the French troops, led by
the Duke of Angoulême, crossed the frontier. The priests and a great part of the
peasantry welcomed them as deliverers: the forces opposed to them fell back without
striking a blow. As the invader advanced towards the capital, gangs of royalists, often
led by monks, spread such terror and devastation over the northern provinces that the
presence of foreign troops became the only safeguard for the peaceable inhabitants.
It had been the desire of King Louis XVIII. and Angoulême to save Spain from the
violence of royalist and priestly fanaticism. On reaching Madrid, Angoulême intended
to appoint a provisional, government himself; he was, however, compelled by orders
from Paris to leave the election in the hands of the Council of Castille, and a Regency
came into power whose first acts showed in what spirit the victory of the French was to
be used. Edicts were issued declaring all the acts of the Cortes affecting the monastic
orders to be null and void, dismissing all officials appointed since March 7, 1820, and
subjecting to examination those who, then being in office, had not resigned their posts.
[338] The arrival of the ambassadors of the three Eastern Powers encouraged the
Regency in their antagonism to the French commander. It was believed that the Cabinet
of Paris was unwilling to restore King Ferdinand as an absolute monarch, and intended
to obtain from him the grant of institutions resembling those of the French Charta. Any
such limitation of absolute power was, however, an object of horror to the three
despotic Courts. Their ambassadors formed themselves into a council with the express
object of resisting the supposed policy of Angoulême. The Regency grew bolder, and
gave the signal for general retribution upon the Liberals by publishing an order
depriving all persons who had served in the voluntary militia since March, 1820, of
their offices, pensions, and titles. The work inaugurated in the capital was carried much
further in the provinces. The friends of the Constitution, and even soldiers who were
protected by their capitulation with the French, were thrown into prison by the new
local authorities. The violence of the reaction reached such a height that Angoulême,
now on the march to Cadiz, was compelled to publish an ordinance forbidding arrests
to be made without the consent of a French commanding officer, and ordering his
generals to release the persons who had been arbitrarily imprisoned. The council of
ambassadors, blind in their jealousy of France to the danger of an uncontrolled
restoration, drew up a protest against his ordinance, and desired that the officers of the
Regency should be left to work their will.
After spending some weeks in idle debates at Seville, the Cortes had been compelled
by the appearance of the French on the Sierra Morena to retire to Cadiz. As King
Ferdinand refused to accompany them, he was declared temporarily insane, and forced
to make the journey (June 12). Angoulême, following the French vanguard after a
considerable interval, appeared before Cadiz in August, and sent a note to King
Ferdinand, recommending him to publish an amnesty, and to promise the restoration of
the mediæval Cortes. It was hoped that the terms suggested in this note might be
accepted by the Government in Cadiz as a basis of peace, and so render an attack upon
the city unnecessary. The Ministry, however, returned a defiant answer in the King's
name. The siege of Cadiz accordingly began in earnest. On the 30th of August the fort
of the Trocadero was stormed; three weeks later the city was bombarded. In reply to all
proposals for negotiation Angoulême stated that he could only treat when King
Ferdinand was within his own lines. There was not the least hope of prolonging the
defence of Cadiz with success, for the combat was dying out even in those few districts
of Spain where the constitutional troops had fought with energy. Ferdinand himself
pretended that he bore no grudge against his Ministers, and that the Liberals had
nothing to fear from his release. On the 30th of September he signed, as if with great
satisfaction, an absolute and universal amnesty. [339] On the following day he was
conveyed with his family across the bay to Angoulême's head-quarters.
The war was over: the real results of the French invasion now came into sight.
Ferdinand had not been twelve hours in the French camp when, surrounded by monks
and royalist desperadoes, he published a proclamation invalidating every act of the
constitutional Government of the last three years, on the ground that his sanction had
been given under constraint. The same proclamation ratified the acts of the Regency of
Madrid. As the Regency of Madrid had declared all persons concerned in the removal
of the King to Cadiz to be liable to the penalties of high treason, Ferdinand had in fact
ratified a sentence of death against several of the men from whom he had just parted in
friendship. [340] Many of these victims of the King's perfidy were sent into safety by
the French. But Angoulême was powerless to influence Ferdinand's policy and conduct.
Don Saez, the King's confessor, was made First Secretary of State. On the 4th of
October an edict was issued banishing for ever from Madrid, and from the country fifty
miles round it, every person who during the last three years had sat in the Cortes, or
who had been a Minister, counsellor of State, judge, commander, official in any public
office, magistrate, or officer in the so-called voluntary militia. It was ordered that
throughout Spain a solemn service should be celebrated in expiation of the insults
offered to the Holy Sacrament; that missions should be sent over the land to combat the
pernicious and heretical doctrines associated with the late outbreak, and that the
bishops should relegate to monasteries of the strictest observance the priests who had
acted as the agents of an impious faction. [341] Thus the war of revenge was openly
declared against the defeated party. It was in vain that Angoulême indignantly
reproached the King, and that the ambassadors of the three Eastern Courts pressed him
to draw up at least some kind of amnesty. Ferdinand travelled slowly towards Madrid,
saying that he could take no such step until he reached the capital. On the 7th of
November, Riego was hanged. Thousands of persons were thrown into prison, or
compelled to fly from the country. Except where order was preserved by the French,
life and property were at the mercy of royalist mobs and the priests who led them; and
although the influence of the Russian statesman Pozzo di Borgo at length brought a
respectable Ministry into office, this only roused the fury of the clerical party, and led
to a cry for the deposition of the King, and for the elevation of his more fanatical
brother, Don Carlos, to the throne. Military commissions were instituted at the
beginning of 1824 for the trial of accused persons, and a pretended amnesty, published
six months later, included in its fifteen classes of exception the participators in almost
every act of the revolution. Ordinance followed upon ordinance, multiplying the acts
punishable with death, and exterminating the literature which was believed to be the
source of all religious and social heterodoxy. Every movement of life was watched by
the police; every expression of political opinion was made high treason. Young men
were shot for being freemasons; women were sent to prison for ten years for possessing
a portrait of Riego. The relation of the restored Government to its subjects was in fact
that which belonged to a state of civil war. Insurrections arose among the fanatics who
were now taking the name of the Carlist or Apostolic party, as well as among a
despairing remnant of the Constitutionalists. After a feeble outbreak of the latter at
Tarifa, a hundred and twelve persons were put to death by the military commissions
within eighteen days. [342] It was not until the summer of 1825 that the jurisdiction of
these tribunals and the Reign of Terror ended.
France had won a cheap and inglorious victory. The three Eastern Courts had seen their
principle of absolutism triumph at the cost of everything that makes government
morally better than anarchy. One consolation remained for those who felt that there
was little hope for freedom on the Continent of Europe. The crusade against Spanish
liberty had put an end for ever to the possibility of a joint conquest of Spanish America
in the interest of despotism. The attitude of England was no longer what it had been in
1818. When the Czar had proposed at the Congress of Aix-la-Chapelle that the allied
monarchs should suppress the republican principle beyond the seas, Castlereagh had
only stated that England could bear no part in such an enterprise; he had not said that
England would effectually prevent others from attempting it. This was the resolution by
which Canning, isolated and baffled by the conspiracy of Verona, proved that England
could still do something to protect its own interest and the interests of mankind against
a league of autocrats. There is indeed little doubt that the independence of the Spanish
colonies would have been recognised by Great Britain soon after the war of 1823,
whoever might have been our Minister for Foreign Affairs, but this recognition was a
different matter in the hands of Canning from what it would have been in the hands of
his predecessor. The contrast between the two men was one of spirit rather than of
avowed rules of action. Where Castlereagh offered apologies to the Continental
sovereigns, Canning uttered defiance [343] The treaties of 1815, which connected
England so closely with the foreign courts, were no work of his; though he sought not
to repudiate them, he delighted to show that in spite of them England has still its own
policy, its own sympathies, its own traditions. In face of the council of kings and its
assumption of universal jurisdiction, he publicly described himself as an enthusiast for
the independence of nations. If others saw little evidence that France intended to
recompense itself for its services to Ferdinand by appropriating some of his rebellious
colonies, Canning was quick to lay hold of every suspicious circumstance. At the
beginning of the war of 1823 he gave a formal warning to the ambassador of Louis
XVIII. that France would not be permitted to bring any of these provinces under its
dominion, whether by conquest or cession. [344] When the war was over, he rejected
the invitation of Ferdinand's Government to take part in a conference at Paris, where
the affairs of South America were to be laid before the Allied Powers. [345] What these
Powers might or might not think on the subject of America was now a matter of
indifference, for the policy of England was fixed, and it was useless to debate upon a
conclusion that could not be altered. British consular agents were appointed in most of
the colonies before the close of the year 1823; and after some interval the independence
of Buenos Ayres, Colombia, and Mexico were formally recognised by the conclusion
of commercial treaties. "I called the New World into existence," cried Canning, when
reproached with permitting the French occupation of Spain, "in order to redress the
balance of the Old." The boast, famous in our Parliamentary history, has left an
erroneous impression of the part really played by Canning at this crisis. He did not call
the New World into existence; he did not even assist it in winning independence, as
France had assisted the United States fifty years before; but when this independence
had been won, he threw over it the aegis of Great Britain, declaring that no other
European Power should reimpose the yoke which Spain had not been able to maintain.
[Affairs in Portugal.]
The overthrow of the Spanish Constitution by foreign arms led to a series of events in
Portugal which forced England to a more direct intervention in the Peninsula than had
yet been necessary, and heightened the conflict that had sprung up between its policy
and that of Continental absolutism. The same parties and the same passions, political
and religious, existed in Portugal as in Spain, and the enemies of the Constitution found
the same support at foreign Courts. The King of Portugal, John VI., was a weak but not
ill-meaning man; his wife, who was a sister of Ferdinand of Spain, and his son Don
Miguel were the chiefs of the conspiracy against the Cortes. In June, 1823, a military
revolt, arranged by Miguel, brought the existing form of government to an end: the
King promised, however, when dissolving the Cortes, that a Constitution should be
bestowed by himself upon Portugal; and he seems to have intended to keep his word.
The ambassadors of France and Austria were, however, busy in throwing hindrances in
the way, and Don Miguel prepared to use violence to prevent his father from making
any concession to the Liberals. King John, in fear for his life, applied to England for
troops; Canning declined to land soldiers at Lisbon, but sent a squadron, with orders to
give the King protection. The winter of 1823 was passed in intrigues; in May, 1824,
Miguel arrested the Ministers and surrounded the King's palace with troops. After
several days of confusion King John made his escape to the British ships, and Miguel,
who was alternately cowardly and audacious, then made his submission, and was
ordered to leave the country. King John died in the spring of 1826 without having
granted a Constitution. Pedro, his eldest son, had already been made Emperor of Brazil;
and, as it was impossible that Portugal and Brazil could again be united, it was
arranged that Pedro's daughter, when of sufficient age, should marry her uncle Miguel,
and so save Portugal from the danger of a contested succession. Before renouncing the
crown of Portugal, Pedro granted a Constitution to that country. A Regency had already
been appointed by King John, in which neither the Queen-dowager nor Miguel was
included.
Miguel had gone to Vienna. Although a sort of Caliban in character and understanding,
this Prince met with the welcome due to a kinsman of the Imperial house, and to a
representative of the good cause of absolutism. He was received by Metternich with
great interest, and his fortunes were taken under the protection of the Austrian Court. In
due time, it was hoped this savage and ignorant churl would do yeoman's service to
Austrian principles in the Peninsula. But the Regency and the new Constitution of
Portugal had not to wait for the tardy operation of Metternich's covert hostility. The
The tone of the English Government had indeed changed since the time when
Metternich could express a public hope that the three Eastern Powers would have the
approval of this country in their attack upon the Constitution of Naples. In 1820 such a
profession might perhaps have passed for a mistake; in 1826 it would have been a
palpable absurdity. Both in England and on the Continent it was felt that the difference
between the earlier and the later spirit of our policy was summed up in the contrast
between Canning and Castlereagh. It has become an article of historical faith that
The statements that Canning withdrew England from the Continental system, and that
he dissolved the Holy Alliance, cannot be accepted without large correction. The
general relations existing between the Great Powers were based, not on the ridiculous
and obsolete treaty of Holy Alliance, but on the Acts which were signed at the
Conference of Aix-la-Chapelle. The first of these was the secret Quadruple Treaty
which bound England and the three Eastern Powers to attack France in case a
revolution in that country should endanger the peace of Europe; the second was the
general declaration of all the five Powers that they would act in amity and take counsel
with one another. From the first of these alliances Canning certainly did not withdraw
England. He would perhaps have done so in 1823 if the Quadruple Treaty had bound
England to maintain the House of Bourbon on the French throne; but it had been
expressly stated that the deposition of the Bourbons would not necessarily and in itself
be considered by England as endangering the peace of Europe. This treaty remained in
full force up to Canning's death; and if a revolutionary army had marched from Paris
upon Antwerp, he would certainly have claimed the assistance of the three Eastern
Powers. With respect to the general concert of Europe, established or confirmed by the
declaration of Aix-la-Chapelle, this had always been one of varying extent and solidity.
Both France and England had held themselves aloof at Troppau. The federative action
was strongest and most mischievous not before but after the death of Castlereagh, and
Canning is invested with a spurious glory when it is said that his action in Spain and in
Portugal broke up the league of the Continental Courts. Canning indeed shaped the
policy of our own country with equal independence and wisdom, but the political
centre of Europe was at this time not London but Vienna. The keystone of the
European fabric was the union of Austria and Russia, and this union was endangered,
not by anything that could take place in the Spanish Peninsula, but by the conflicting
interests of these two great States in regard to the Ottoman Empire. From the moment
when the Treaty of Paris was signed, every Austrian politician fixed his gaze upon the
roads leading to the Lower Danube, and anxiously noted the signs of coming war, or of
continued peace, between Russia and the Porte. [348] It was the triumph of Metternich
to have diverted the Czar's thoughts during the succeeding years from his grievances
against Turkey, and to have baffled the Russian diplomatists and generals who, like
Capodistrias, sought to spur on their master to enterprises of Eastern conquest. At the
Congress of Verona the shifting and incoherent manoeuvres of Austrian statecraft can
indeed only be understood on the supposition that Metternich was thinking all the time
less of Spain than of Turkey, and struggling at whatever cost to maintain that personal
influence over Alexander which had hitherto prevented the outbreak of war in the East.
But the antagonism so long suppressed broke out at last. The progress of the Greek
insurrection brought Austria and Russia not indeed into war, but into the most
embittered hostility with one another. It was on this rock that the ungainly craft which
men called the Holy Alliance at length struck and went to pieces. Canning played his
part well in the question of the East, but he did not create this question. There were
forces at work which, without his intervention, would probably have made an end of
the despotic amities of 1815. It is not necessary to the title of a great statesman that he
should have called into being the elements which make a new political order possible;
it is sufficient praise that he should have known how to turn them to account.
CHAPTER XV.
Of the Christian races which at the beginning of the third decade of this century
peopled the European provinces of the Ottoman Empire, the Greek was that which had
been least visibly affected by the political and military events of the Napoleonic age.
Servia, after a long struggle, had in the year 1817 gained local autonomy under its own
princes, although Turkish troops still garrisoned its fortresses, and the sovereignty of
the Sultan was acknowledged by the payment of tribute. The Romanic districts,
Wallachia and Moldavia, which, in the famous interview of Tilsit, Napoleon had
bidden the Czar to make his own, were restored by Russia to the Porte in the Treaty of
Bucharest in 1812, but under conditions which virtually established a Russian
protectorate. Greece, with the exception of the Ionian Islands, had neither been the
scene of any military operations, nor formed the subject of any treaty. Yet the age of
the French Revolution and of the Napoleonic wars had silently wrought in the Greek
nation the last of a great series of changes which fitted it to take its place among the
free peoples of Europe. The signs were there from which those who could read the
future might have gathered that the political resurrection of Greece was near at hand.
There were some who, with equal insight and patriotism, sought during this period to
lay the intellectual foundation for that national independence which they foresaw that
their children would win with the sword.
The forward movement of the Greek nation may be said, in general terms, to have
become visible during the first half of the eighteenth century. Serfage had then
disappeared; the peasant was either a free-holder, or a farmer paying a rent in kind for
his land. In the gradual and unobserved emancipation of the labouring class the first
condition of national revival had already been fulfilled. The peasantry had been formed
which, when the conflict with the Turk broke out, bore the brunt of the long struggle. In
comparison with the Prussian serf, the Greek cultivator at the beginning of the
eighteenth century was an independent man: in comparison with the English labourer,
he was well fed and well housed. The evils to which the Greek population was
exposed, wherever Greeks and Turks lived together, were those which brutalised or
degraded the Christian races in every Ottoman province. There was no redress for
injury inflicted by a Mohammedan official or neighbour. If a wealthy Turk murdered a
Greek in the fields, burnt down his house, and outraged his family, there was no court
where the offender could be brought to justice. The term by which the Turk described
his Christian neighbour was "our rayah," that is, "our subject." A Mohammedan
landowner might terrorise the entire population around him, carry off the women, flog
This was the monstrous relation that existed between the dominant and the subject
nationalities, not in Greece only, but in every part of the Ottoman Empire where
Mohammedans and Christians inhabited the same districts. The second great and
general evil was the extortion practised by the tax-gatherers, and this fell upon the
poorer Mohammedans equally with the Christians, except in regard to the poll-tax, or
haratsch, the badge of servitude, which was levied on Christians alone. All land paid
tithe to the State; and until the tax-gatherer had paid his visit it was not permitted to the
peasant to cut the ripe crop. This rule enabled the tax-gatherer, whether a
Mohammedan or a Christian, to inflict ruin upon those who did not bribe himself or his
masters; for by merely postponing his visit he could destroy the value of the harvest.
Round this central institution of tyranny and waste, there gathered, except in the
districts protected by municipal privileges, every form of corruption natural to a society
where the State heard no appeals, and made no inquiry into the processes employed by
those to whom it sold the taxes. What was possible in the way of extortion was best
seen in the phenomenon of well-built villages being left tenantless, and the population
of rich districts dying out in a time of peace, without pestilence, without insurrection,
without any greater wrong on the part of the Sultan's government than that normal
indifference which permitted the existence of a community to depend upon the
moderation or the caprice of the individual possessors of force.
Such was the framework, or, as it may be said, the common-law of the mixed Turkish
and Christian society of the Ottoman Empire. On this background we have now to trace
the social and political features which stood out in Greek life, which preserved the race
from losing its separate nationality, and which made the ultimate recovery of its
independence possible. In the first outburst of sympathy and delight with which every
generous heart in western Europe hailed the standard of Hellenic freedom upraised in
1821, the twenty centuries which separated the Greece of literature from the Greece of
to-day were strangely forgotten. The imagination went straight back to Socrates and
Leonidas, and pictured in the islander or the hillsman who rose against Mahmud II. the
counterpart of those glorious beings who gave to Europe the ideals of intellectual
energy, of plastic beauty, and of poetic truth. The illusion was a happy one, if it excited
on behalf of a brave people an interest which Servia or Montenegro might have failed
to gain; but it led to a reaction when disappointments came; it gave inordinate
importance to the question of the physical descent of the Greeks; and it produced a
false impression of the causes which had led up to the war of independence, and of the
qualities, the habits, the bonds of union, which exercised the greatest power over the
nation. These were, to a great extent, unlike anything existing in the ancient world; they
had originated in Byzantine, not in classic Greece; and where the scenes of old Hellenic
history appeared to be repeating themselves, it was due more to the continuing
influence of the same seas and the same mountains than to the survival of any political
fragments of the past. The Greek population had received a strong Slavonic infusion
many centuries before. More recently, Albanian settlers had expelled the inhabitants
from certain districts both in the mainland and in the Morea. Attica, Boeotia, Corinth,
[Lower clergy.]
The central element in modern Greek life was the religious profession of the Orthodox
Eastern Church. Where, as in parts of Crete, the Greek adopted Mohammedanism, all
the other elements of his nationality together did not prevent him from amalgamating
with the Turk. The sound and popular forces of the Church belonged to the lower
clergy, who, unlike the priests of the Roman Church, were married and shared the life
of the people. If ignorant and bigoted, they were nevertheless the real guardians of
national spirit; and if their creed was a superstition rather than a religion, it at least kept
the Greeks in a wholesome antagonism to the superstition of their masters. The higher
clergy stood in many respects in a different position. The Patriarch of Constantinople
was a great officer of the Porte. His dignities and his civil jurisdiction had been
restored and even enlarged by the Mohammedan conquerors of the Greek Empire, with
the express object of employing the Church as a means of securing obedience to
themselves: and it was quite in keeping with the history of this great office that, when
the Greek national insurrection at last broke out, the Patriarch Gregorius IV. should
have consented, though unwillingly, to launch the curse of the Church against it. The
Patriarch gained his office by purchase, or through intrigues at the Divan; he paid an
enormous annual backsheesh for it; and he was liable to be murdered or deposed as
soon as his Mussulman patrons lost favour with the Sultan, or a higher bid was made
for his office by a rival ecclesiastic. To satisfy the claims of the Palace the Patriarch
was compelled to be an extortioner himself. The bishoprics in their turn were sold in
his ante-chambers, and the Bishops made up the purchase-money by fleecing their
clergy. But in spite of a deserved reputation for venality, the Bishops in Greece
exercised very great influence, both as ecclesiastics and as civil magistrates. Whether
their jurisdiction in lawsuits between Christians arose from the custom of referring
disputes to their arbitration or was expressly granted to them by the Sultan, they
virtually displaced in all Greek communities the court of the Kadi, and afforded the
merchant or the farmer a tribunal where his own law was administered in his own
language. Even a Mohammedan in dispute with a Christian would sometimes consent
to bring the matter before the Bishops' Court rather than enforce his right to obtain the
dilatory and capricious decision of an Ottoman judge.
[Communal organisation.]
[The Morea.]
The condition of the Greeks living in the country that now forms the Hellenic Kingdom
and in the Ægæan Islands exhibited strong local contrasts. It was, however, common to
all that, while the Turk held the powers of State in his hand, the details of local
administration in each district were left to the inhabitants, the Turk caring nothing
about these matters so long as the due amount of taxes was paid and the due supply of
sailors provided. The apportionment of taxes among households and villages seems to
have been the germ of self-government from which several types of municipal
organisation, some of them of great importance in the history of the Greek nation,
developed. In the Paschalik of the Morea the taxes were usually farmed by the
Voivodes, or Beys, the Turkish governors of the twenty-three provinces into which the
Morea was divided. But in each village or township the inhabitants elected officers
called Proestoi, who, besides collecting the taxes and managing the affairs of their own
communities, met in a district-assembly, and there determined what share of the
district-taxation each community should bear. One Greek officer, called Primate, and
one Mohammedan, called Ayan, were elected to represent the district, and to take part
in the council of the Pasha of the Morea, who resided at Tripolitza. [350] The Primates
exercised considerable power. Created originally by the Porte to expedite the collection
of the revenue, they became a Greek aristocracy. They were indeed an aristocracy of no
very noble kind. Agents of a tyrannical master, they shared the vices of the tyrant and
of the slave. Often farmers of the taxes themselves, obsequious and intriguing in the
palace of the Pasha at Tripolitza, grasping and despotic in their native districts, they
were described as a species of Christian Turk. But whatever their vices, they saved the
Greeks from being left without leaders. They formed a class accustomed to act in
common, conversant with details of administration, and especially with the machinery
for collecting and distributing supplies. It was this financial experience of the Primates
of the Morea which gave to the rebellion of the Greeks what little unity of organisation
it exhibited in its earliest stage.
On the north of the Gulf of Corinth the features of the communal system were less
distinct than in the Morea. There was, however, in the mountain-country of Ætolia and
Pindus a rough military organisation which had done great service to Greece in keeping
alive the national spirit and habits of personal independence. The Turks had found a
local militia established in this wild region at the time of their conquest, and had not
interfered with it for some centuries. The Armatoli, or native soldiery, recruited from
peasants, shepherds, and muleteers, kept Mohammedan influences at a distance, until,
in the eighteenth century, the Sultans made it a fixed rule of policy to diminish their
[Chios.]
In the islands of the Ægæan the condition of the Greeks was on the whole happy and
prosperous. Some of these islands had no Turkish population; in others the caprice of a
Sultana, the goodwill of the Capitan Pasha who governed the Archipelago, or the
judicious offer of a sum of money when money was wanted by the Porte, had so
lightened the burden of Ottoman sovereignty, that the Greek island-community
possessed more liberty than was to be found in any part of Europe, except Switzerland.
The taxes payable to the central government, including the haratsch or poll-tax levied
on all Christians, had often been commuted for a fixed sum, which was raised without
the interposition of the Turkish tax-gatherer. In Hydra, Spetza, and Psara, the so-called
nautical islands, the supremacy of the Turk was felt only in the obligation to furnish
sailors to the Ottoman navy, and in the payment of a tribute of about £100 per annum.
The government of these three islands was entirely in the hands of the inhabitants. In
Chios, though a considerable Mussulman population existed by the side of the Greek,
there was every sign of peace and prosperity. Each island bore its own peculiar social
character, and had its municipal institutions of more or less value. The Hydriote was
quarrelsome, turbulent, quick to use the knife, but outspoken, honest in dealing, and an
excellent sailor. The picture of Chian life, as drawn even by those who have judged the
Greeks most severely, is one of singular beauty and interest; the picture of a
self-governing society in which the family trained the citizen in its own bosom, and in
which, while commerce enriched all, the industry of the poor within their homes and in
their gardens was refined by the practice of an art. The skill which gave its value to the
embroidery and to the dyes of Chios was exercised by those who also worked the
hand-loom and cultivated the mastic and the rose. The taste and the labour of man
requited nature's gifts of sky, soil, and sea; and in the pursuit of occupations which
stimulated, not deadened, the faculties of the worker, idleness and intemperance were
alike unknown. [352] How bright a scene of industry, when compared with the grime
and squalor of the English factory-town, where the human and the inanimate machine
grind out their yearly mountains of iron-ware and calico, in order that the employer
may vie with his neighbours in soulless ostentation, and the workman consume his
millions upon millions in drink.
[Greek Hospodars.]
Four great offices of the Ottoman Empire were always held by Greeks. These were the
offices of Dragoman,[354] or Secretary, of the Porte, Dragoman of the Fleet, and the
governorships, called Hospodariates, of Wallachia and Moldavia. The varied business
of the Patriarchate of Constantinople, the administration of its revenues, the conduct of
its law-courts, had drawn a multitude of pushing and well-educated Greeks to the
quarter of Constantinople called the Phanar, in which the palace of the Patriarch is
situated. Merchants and professional men inhabited the same district. These Greeks of
the capital, the so-called Phanariots, gradually made their way into the Ottoman
administration as Turkish energy declined, and the conquering race found that it could
no longer dispense with the weapons of calculation and diplomacy. The Treaty of
Carlowitz, made in 1699, after the unsuccessful war in which the Turks laid siege to
Vienna, was negotiated on behalf of the Porte by Alexander Maurokordatos, a Chian by
birth, who had become physician to the Sultan and was virtually the Foreign Minister
of Turkey. His sons, Nicholas and Constantine, were made Hospodars of Wallachia and
Moldavia early in the eighteenth century; and from this time forward, until the outbreak
of the Greek insurrection, the governorships of the Roumanian provinces were
entrusted to Phanariot families. The result was that a troop of Greek adventurers passed
to the north of the Danube, and seized upon every office of profit in these unfortunate
The knowledge of ancient Greek was never wholly lost among the priesthood, but it
had become useless. Nothing was read but the ecclesiastic commonplace of a pedantic
age; and in the schools kept by the clergy before the eighteenth century the ancient
language was taught only as a means of imparting divinity. The educational movement
promoted by men like Maurokordatos had a double end; it revived the knowledge of
the great age of Greece through its literature, and it taught the Greek to regard the
speech which he actually used not as a mere barbarous patois which each district had
made for itself, but as a language different indeed from that of the ancient world, yet
governed by its own laws, and capable of performing the same functions as any other
modern tongue. It was now that the Greek learnt to call himself Hellen, the name of his
forefathers, instead of Romaios, a Roman. As the new schools grew up and the old
ones were renovated or transformed, education ceased to be merely literary. In the
second half of the eighteenth century science returned in a humble form to the land that
had given it birth, and the range of instruction was widened by men who had studied
law, physics, and moral philosophy at foreign Universities. Something of the liberal
spirit of the inquirers of Western Europe arose among the best Greek teachers. Though
no attack was made upon the doctrines of the Church, and no direct attack was made
upon the authority of the Sultan, the duty of religious toleration was proclaimed in a
land where bigotry had hitherto reigned supreme, and the political freedom of ancient
Greece was held up as a glorious ideal to a less happy age. Some of the higher clergy
and of the Phanariot instruments of Turkish rule took fright at the independent spirit of
the new learning, and for a while it seemed as if the intellectual as well as the political
progress of Greece might be endangered by ecclesiastical ill-will. But the attachment of
the Greek people to the Church was so strong and so universal that, although satire
might be directed against the Bishops, a breach with the Church formed no part of the
design of any patriot. The antagonism between episcopal and national feeling, strongest
about the end of the eighteenth century, declined during succeeding years, and had
almost disappeared before the outbreak of the war of liberation.
[Koraes, 1748-1833.]
since the time of Koraes is not wanting, if a foreigner may express an opinion, in
tenderness and grace The writer who shall ennoble Greek prose with the energy and
directness of the ancient style has yet to arise [356]
The intellectual advance of the Greeks in the eighteenth century was closely connected
with the development of their commerce, and this in its turn was connected with events
in the greater cycle of European history. A period of comparative peace and order in
the Levantine waters, following the final expulsion of the Venetians from the Morea in
1718, gave play to the natural aptitude of the Greek islanders for coasting-trade. Then
ships, still small and unfit to venture on long voyages, plied between the harbours in
the Ægæan and in the Black Sea, and brought profit to their owners in spite of the
imposition of burdens from which not only many of the Mussulman subjects of the
Sultan, but foreign nations protected by commercial treaties, were free. It was at this
epoch, after Venice had lost its commercial supremacy in the Eastern Mediterranean,
that Russia began to exercise a direct influence upon the fortunes of Greece. The
Empress Catherine had formed the design of conquering Constantinople, and intended,
under the title of Protectress of the Christian Church, to use the Greeks as her allies. In
the war which broke out between Russia and Turkey in 1768, a Russian expeditionary
force landed in the Morea, and the Greeks were persuaded to take up arms. The
Moreotes themselves paid dearly for the trust which they had placed in the orthodox
Empress. They were virtually abandoned to the vengeance of their oppressors; but to
Greece at large the conditions on which peace was made proved of immense benefit.
The Treaty of Kainardji, signed in 1774, gave Russia the express right to make
representations at Constantinople on behalf of the Christian inhabitants of the Danubian
provinces; it also bound the Sultan to observe certain conditions in his treatment of the
Greek islanders. Out of these clauses, Russian diplomacy constructed a general right of
interference on behalf of any Christian subjects of the Porte. The Treaty also opened
the Black Sea to Russian ships of commerce, and conferred upon Russia the
commercial privileges of the most favoured nation.[357] The result of this compact was
a very remarkable one. The Russian Government permitted hundreds of Greek
shipowners to hoist its own flag, and so changed the footing of Greek merchantmen in
every port of the Ottoman Empire. The burdens which had placed the Greek trader at a
disadvantage, when compared with the Mohammedan, vanished. A host of Russian
consular agents, often Greeks themselves, was scattered over the Levant. Eager for
opportunities of attaching the Greeks to their Russian patrons, quick to make their
newly-won power felt by the Turks, these men extracted a definite meaning from the
clauses of the Treaty of Kainardji, by which the Porte had bound itself to observe the
rights of its Christian subjects. The sense of security in the course of their business, no
less than the emancipation from commercial fetters, gave an immense impulse to Greek
traders. Their ships were enlarged; voyages, hitherto limited to the Levant, were
extended to England and even to America; and a considerable armament of cannon was
placed on board each ship for defence against the attack of Algerian pirates.
Before the end of the eighteenth century another war between Turkey and Russia,
resulting in the cession of the district of Oczakoff on the northern shore of the Black
Sea, made the Greeks both carriers and vendors of the corn-export of Southern Russia.
The city of Odessa was founded on the ceded territory. The merchants who raised it to
its sudden prosperity were not Russians but Greeks; and in the course of a single
generation many a Greek trading-house, which had hitherto deemed the sum of £3,000
to be a large capital, rose to an opulence little behind that of the great London firms.
Profiting by the neutrality of Turkey or its alliance with England during a great part of
the revolutionary war, the Greeks succeeded to much of the Mediterranean trade that
was lost by France and its dependencies. The increasing intelligence of the people was
shown in the fact that foreigners were no longer employed by Greek merchants as their
travelling agents in distant countries; there were countrymen enough of their own who
could negotiate with an Englishman or a Dane in his own language. The richest Greeks
were no doubt those of Odessa and Salonica, not of Hellas proper; but even the little
islands of Hydra and Spetza, the refuge of the Moreotes whom Catherine had forsaken
in 1770, now became communities of no small wealth and spirit. Psara, which was
purely Greek, formed with these Albanian colonies the nucleus of an Ægæan naval
Power. The Ottoman Government, cowed by its recent defeats, and perhaps glad to see
the means of increasing its resources, made no attempt to check the growth of the
Hellenic armed marine. Under the very eyes of the Sultan, the Hydriote and Psarian
captains, men as venturesome as the sea-kings of ancient Greece, accumulated the
artillery which was hereafter to hold its own against many an Ottoman man-of-war, and
to sweep the Turkish merchantmen from the Ægæan. Eighteen years before the Greek
insurrection broke out, Koraes, calling the attention of Western Europe to the progress
made by his country, wrote the following significant words:-"If the Ottoman
Government could have foreseen that the Greeks would create a merchant-navy,
composed of several hundred vessels, most of them regularly armed, it would have
crushed the movement at its commencement. It is impossible to calculate the effects
which may result from the creation of this marine, or the influence which it may exert
both upon the destiny of the oppressed nation and upon that of its oppressors." [358]
Like its classic sisterland in the Mediterranean, Greece was stirred by the far-sounding
voices of the French Revolution. The Declaration of the Rights of Man, the revival of a
supposed antique Republicanism, the victories of Hoche and Bonaparte, successively
kindled the enthusiasm of a race already restless under the Turkish yoke. France drew
to itself some of the hopes that had hitherto been fixed entirely upon Russia. Images
and ideas of classic freedom invaded the domain where the Church had hitherto been
all in all; the very sailors began to call their boats by the names of Spartan and
Athenian heroes, as well as by those of saints and martyrs. In 1797 Venice fell, and
Bonaparte seized its Greek possessions, the Ionian Islands. There was something of the
forms of liberation in the establishment of French rule; the inhabitants of Zante were at
least permitted to make a bonfire of the stately wigs worn by their Venetian masters.
Great changes seemed to be near at hand. It was not yet understood that France fought
for empire, not for justice; and the man who, above all others, represented the early
spirit of the revolution among the Greeks, the poet Rhegas, looked to Bonaparte to give
the signal for the rising of the whole of the Christian populations subject to
Mohammedan rule. Rhegas, if he was not a wise politician, was a thoroughly brave
man, and he was able to serve his country as a martyr. While engaged in Austria in
conspiracies against the Sultan's Government, and probably in intrigues with
Bernadotte, French ambassador at Vienna, he was arrested by the agents of Thugut, and
From the year 1798 down to the Peace of Paris, Greece was more affected by the
vicissitudes of the Ionian Islands and by the growth of dominion of Ali Pasha in
Albania than by the earlier revolutionary ideas. France was deprived of its spoils by the
combined Turkish and Russian fleets in the coalition of 1799, and the Ionian Islands
were made into a Republic under the protection of the Czar and the Sultan. It was in the
native administration of Corfu that the career of Capodistrias began. At the peace of
Tilsit the Czar gave these islands back to Napoleon, and Capodistrias, whose ability
had gained general attention, accepted an invitation to enter the Russian service. The
islands were then successively beleaguered and conquered by the English, with the
exception of Corfu; and after the fall of Napoleon they became a British dependency.
Thus the three greatest Powers of Europe were during the first years of this century in
constant rivalry on the east of the Adriatic, and a host of Greeks, some fugitives, some
adventurers, found employment among their armed forces. The most famous chieftain
in the war of liberation, Theodore Kolokotrones, a Klepht of the Morea, was for some
years major of a Greek regiment in the pay of England. In the meantime Ali Pasha, on
the neighbouring mainland, neither rested himself nor allowed any of his neighbours to
rest. The Suliotes, vanquished after years of heroic defence, migrated in a body to the
Ionian Islands in 1804. Every Klepht and Armatole of the Epirote border had fought at
some time either for Ali or against him; for in the extension of his violent and crafty
rule Ali was a friend to-day and an enemy to-morrow alike to Greek, Turk, and
Albanian. When his power was at its height, Ali's court at Janina was as much Greek as
it was Mohammedan: soldiers, merchants, professors, all, as it was said, with a longer
or a shorter rope round their necks, played their part in the society of the Epirote
capital. [360] Among the officers of Ali's army there were some who were soon to be
the military rivals of Kolokotrones in the Greek insurrection: Ali's physician, Dr.
Kolettes, was gaining an experience and an influence among these men which
afterwards placed him at the head of the Government. For good or for evil, it was felt
that the establishment of a virtually independent kingdom of Albania must deeply
affect the fate of Greece; and when at length Ali openly defied the Sultan, and Turkish
armies closed round his castle at Janina, the conflict between the Porte and its most
powerful vassal gave the Greeks the signal to strike for their own independence.
Early in 1820 the ferment in Greece had become so general that the chiefs of the
Hetæria were compelled to seek at St. Petersburg for the Russian leader who had as yet
existed only in their imagination. There was no dispute as to the person to whom the
task of restoring the Eastern Empire rightfully belonged. Capodistrias, at once a Greek
and Foreign Minister of Russia, stood in the front rank of European statesmen; he was
known to love the Greek cause; he was believed to possess the strong personal
affection of the Emperor Alexander. The deputies of the Hetæria besought him to place
himself at its head. Capodistrias, however, knew better than any other man the force of
those influences which would dissuade the Czar from assisting Greece. He had himself
published a pamphlet in the preceding year recommending his countrymen to take no
rash step; and, apart from all personal considerations, he probably believed that he
could serve Greece better as Minister of Russia than by connecting himself with any
dangerous enterprise. He rejected the offers of the Hetærists, who then turned to a
soldier of some distinction in the Russian army, Prince Alexander Hypsilanti, a Greek
exile, whose grandfather, after governing Wallachia as Hospodar, had been put to death
by the Turks for complicity with the designs of Rhegas. It is said that Capodistrias
encouraged Hypsilanti to attempt the task which he had himself declined, and that he
allowed him to believe that if Greece once rose in arms the assistance of Russia could
In October, 1820, the leading Hetærists met in council at Ismail to decide whether the
insurrection against the Turk should begin in Greece itself or in the Danubian
provinces. Most of the Greek officers in the service of Sutsos, the Hospodar of
Moldavia, were ready to join the revolt. With the exception of a few companies serving
as police, there were no Turkish soldiers north of the Danube, the Sultan having bound
himself by the Treaty of Bucharest to send no troops into the Principalities without the
Czar's consent. It does not appear that the Hetærists had yet formed any calculation as
to the probable action of the Roumanian people: they had certainly no reason to believe
that this race bore good-will to the Greeks, or that it would make any effort to place a
Greek upon the Sultan's throne. The conspirators at Ismail were so far on the right track
that they decided that the outbreak should begin, not on the Danube, but in
Peloponnesus. Hypsilanti, however, full of the belief that Russia would support him,
reversed this conclusion, and determined to raise his standard in Moldavia. [362] And
now for the first time some account was taken of the Roumanian population. It was
known that the mass of the people groaned under the feudal oppression of the Boyards,
or landowners, and that the Boyards themselves detested the government of the Greek
Hospodars. A plan found favour among Hypsilanti's advisers that the Wallachian
peasantry should first be called to arms by a native leader for the redress of their own
grievances, and that the Greeks should then step in and take control of the
insurrectionary movement. Theodor Wladimiresco, a Roumanian who had served in the
Russian army, was ready to raise the standard of revolt among his countrymen. It did
not occur to the Hetærists that Wladimiresco might have a purpose of his own, or that
the Roumanian population might prefer to see the Greek adventure fail. No sovereign
by divine right had a firmer belief in his prerogative within his own dominions than
Hypsilanti in his power to command or outwit Roumanians, Slavs, and all other
Christian subjects of the Sultan.
The feint of a native rising was planned and executed. In February, 1821, while
Hypsilanti waited on the Russian frontier, Wladimiresco proclaimed the abolition of
feudal services, and marched with a horde of peasants upon Bucharest. On the 16th of
March the Hetærists began their own insurrection by a deed of blood that disgraced the
Christian cause. Karavias, a conspirator commanding the Greek troops of the Hospodar
at Galatz, let loose his soldiers and murdered every Turk who could be hunted down.
Hypsilanti crossed the Pruth next day, and appeared at Jassy with a few hundred
followers. A proclamation was published in which the Prince called upon all Christian
subjects of the Porte to rise, and declared that a great European Power, meaning Russia,
supported him in his enterprise. Sutsos, the Hospodar, at once handed over all the
apparatus of government, and supplied the insurgents with a large sum of money. Two
thousand armed men, some of them regular troops, gathered round Hypsilanti at Jassy.
The roads to the Danube lay open before him; the resources of Moldavia were at his
disposal; and had he at once thrown a force into Galatz and Ibraila, he might perhaps
have made it difficult for Turkish troops to gain a footing on the north of the Danube.
But the incapacity of the leader became evident from the moment when he began his
enterprise. He loitered for a week at Jassy, holding court and conferring titles, and then,
setting out for Bucharest, wasted three weeks more upon the road. In the meantime the
news of the insurrection, and of the fraudulent use that had been made of his own
name, reached the Czar, who was now engaged at the Congress of Laibach. Alexander
was at this moment abandoning himself heart and soul to Metternich's reactionary
influence, and ordering his generals to make ready a hundred thousand men to put
down the revolution in Piedmont. He received with dismay a letter from Hypsilanti
invoking his aid in a rising which was first described in the phrases of the Holy
Alliance as the result of a divine inspiration, and then exhibited as a master-work of
secret societies and widespread conspiracy. A stern answer was sent back. Hypsilanti
was dismissed from the Russian service; he was ordered to lay down his arms, and a
manifesto was published by the Russian Consul at Jassy declaring that the Czar
repudiated and condemned the enterprise with which his name had been connected.
The Patriarch of Constantinople, helpless in the presence of Sultan Mahmud, now
issued a ban of excommunication against the leader and all his followers. Some weeks
later the Congress of Laibach officially branded the Greek revolt as a work of the same
anarchical spirit which had produced the revolutions of Italy and Spain. [363]
The disavowal of the Hetærist enterprise by the Czar was fatal to its success.
Hypsilanti, indeed, put on a bold countenance and pretended that the public utterances
of the Russian Court were a mere blind, and in contradiction to the private instructions
given him by the Czar; but no one believed him. The Roumanians, when they knew
that aid was not coming from Russia, held aloof, or treated insurgents as enemies.
Turkish troops crossed the Danube, and Hypsilanti fell back from Bucharest towards
the Austrian frontier. Wladimiresco followed him, not however to assist him in his
struggle, but to cut off his retreat and to betray him to the enemy. It was in vain that the
bravest of Hypsilanti's followers, Georgakis, a Greek from Olympus, sought the
Wallachian at his own headquarters, exposed his treason to the Hetærist officers who
surrounded him, and carried him, a doomed man, to the Greek camp. Wladimiresco's
death was soon avenged. The Turks advanced. Hypsilanti was defeated in a series of
encounters, and fled ignobly from his followers, to seek a refuge, and to find a prison,
in Austria. Bands of his soldiers, forsaken by their leader, sold their lives dearly in a
hopeless struggle. At Skuleni, on the Pruth, a troop of four hundred men refused to
cross to Russian soil until they had given battle to the enemy. Standing at bay, they met
the onslaught of ten times their number of pursuers. Georgakis, who had sworn that he
would never fall alive into the enemy's hands, kept his word. Surrounded by Turkish
troops in the tower of a monastery, he threw open the doors for those of his comrades
who could to escape, and then setting fire to a chest of powder, perished in the
explosion, together with his assailants.
The Hetærist invasion of the Principalities had ended in total failure, and with it there
passed away for ever the dream of re-establishing the Eastern Empire under Greek
[Terrorism at Constantinople.]
The news of the revolt of the Morea and of the massacre of Mohammedans reached
Constantinople, striking terror into the politicians of the Turkish capital, and rousing
the Sultan Mahmud to a vengeance tiger-like in its ferocity, but deliberate and
calculated like every bloody deed of this resolute and able sovereign. Reprisals had
already been made upon the Greeks at Constantinople for the acts of Hypsilanti, and a
number of innocent persons had been put to death by the executioner, but no general
attack upon the Christians had been suggested, nor had the work of punishment passed
out of the hands of the government itself. Now, however, the fury of the Mohammedan
populace was let loose upon the infidel. The Sultan called upon his subjects to arm
themselves in defence of their faith. Executions were redoubled; soldiers and mobs
devastated Greek settlements on the Bosphorus; and on the most sacred day of the
Greek Church a blow was struck which sent a thrill over Eastern Europe. The Patriarch
of Constantinople had celebrated the service which ushers in the dawn of Easter
Sunday, when he was summoned by the Dragoman of the Porte to appear before a
Synod hastily assembled. There an order of the Sultan was read declaring Gregorius
IV. a traitor, and degrading him from his office. The Synod was commanded to elect
his successor. It did so. While the new Archbishop was receiving his investiture,
Gregorius was led out, and was hanged, still wearing his sacred robes, at the gate of his
palace. His body remained during Easter Sunday and the two following days at the
place of execution. It was then given to the Jews to be insulted, dragged through the
streets, and cast into the sea. The Archbishops of Adrianople, Salonica, and Tirnovo
suffered death on the same Easter Sunday. The body of Gregorius, floating in the
waves, was picked up by a Greek ship and carried to Odessa. Brought, as it was
believed, by a miracle to Christian soil, the relics of the Patriarch received at the hands
of the Russian government the funeral honours of a martyr. Gregorius had no doubt had
dealings with the Hetærists; but he was put to death untried; and whatever may have
been the real extent of his offence, he was executed not for this but in order to strike
terror into the Sultan's Christian subjects.
[Effect on Russia.]
The capital where these events were watched with the greatest apprehension was
Vienna. The fortunes of the Ottoman Empire have always been most intimately
connected with those of Austria; and although the long struggle of the House of
Hapsburg with Napoleon and its wars in recent times with Prussia and with Italy have
made the western aspect of Austrian policy more prominent and more familiar than its
eastern one, the eastern interests of the monarchy have always been at least as
important in the eyes of its actual rulers. Before the year 1720 Austria, not Russia, was
the great enemy of Turkey and the aggressive Power of the east of Europe. After 1780
the Emperor Joseph had united with Catherine of Russia in a plan for dividing the
Sultan's dominions in Europe, and actually waged a war for this purpose. In 1795 the
alliance, with the same object, had been prospectively revived by Thugut; in 1809, after
the Treaty of Tilsit, Metternich had determined in the last resort to combine with
Napoleon and Alexander in dismembering Turkey, if all diplomatic means should fail
to prevent a joint attack on the Porte by France and Russia. But this resolution had been
adopted by Metternich only as a matter of necessity, and in view of a combination
which threatened to reduce Austria to the position of a vassal State. Metternich's own
definite and consistent policy after 1814 was the maintenance of the Ottoman Empire.
His statesmanship was, as a rule, governed by fear; and his fear of Alexander was
second only to his old fear of Napoleon. Times were changed since Joseph and Thugut
could hope to enter upon a game of aggression with Russia upon equal terms. The
Austrian army had been beaten in every battle that it had fought during nearly twenty
years. Province after province had been severed from it, without, except in the Tyrol,
raising a hand in its support; and when in 1821 the Minister compared Austria's actual
Empire and position in Europe, won and maintained in great part by his own
diplomacy, with the ruin to which a series of wars had brought it ten years before, he
might well thank Heaven that international Congresses were still so much in favour
with the Courts, and tremble at the clash of arms which from the remote Morea
threatened to call Napoleon's northern conquerors once more into the field [365]
England was not, like Austria, exposed to actual danger by the advance of Russia
towards the Ægæan; but the growth of Russian power had been viewed with alarm by
Both at London therefore and at Vienna the rebellion of Greece was viewed by
governments only as an unfortunate disturbance which was likely to excite war
between Russia and its neighbours, and to imperil the peace of Europe at large. It may
seem strange that the spectacle of a nation rising to assert its independence should not
even have aroused the question whether its claims deserved to be considered. But to do
justice at least to the English Ministers of 1821, it must be remembered how terrible,
how overpowering, were the memories left by the twenty years of European war that
had closed in 1815, and at how vast a cost to mankind the regeneration of Greece
would have been effected, if, as then seemed probable, it had ranged the Great Powers
again in arms against one another, and re-kindled the spirit of military aggression
which for a whole generation had made Europe the prey of rival coalitions. It is
impossible to read the letter in which Castlereagh pleaded with the Czar to sacrifice his
own glory and popularity to the preservation of European peace, without perceiving in
what profound earnestness the English statesman sought to avert the renewal of an
epoch of conflict, and how much the apprehension of coming calamity predominated in
his own mind over the mere jealousy of an extension of Russian power. [367] If
Castlereagh had no thought for Greece itself, it was because the larger interests of
Europe wholly absorbed him, and because he lacked the imagination and the insight to
conceive of a better adjustment of European affairs under the widening recognition of
The policy of Metternich in the Eastern Question had for its object the maintenance of
the existing order of things; and as it was certain that some satisfaction or other must be
given to Russian pride, Metternich's counsel was that the grievances of the Czar which
were specifically Russian should be clearly distinguished from questions relating to the
independence of Greece; and that on the former the Porte should be recommended to
agree with its adversary quickly, the good offices of Europe being employed within
given limits on the Czar's behalf; so that, the Russian causes of complaint being
removed, Alexander might without loss of honour leave the Greeks to be subdued, and
resume the diplomatic relations with Constantinople which had been so perilously
severed by Strogonoff's departure. It remained for the Czar to decide whether, as head
of Russia and protector of the Christians of the East, he would solve the Eastern
Question by his own sword, or whether, constant to the principle and ideal of
international action to which he had devoted himself since 1815, he would commit his
cause to the joint mediation of Europe, and accept such solution of the problem as his
allies might attain. In the latter case it was clear that no blow would be struck on behalf
of Greece. For a year or more the balance wavered; at length the note of triumph
sounded in the Austrian Cabinet. Capodistrias, the representative of the Greek cause at
St. Petersburg, rightly measured the force of the opposing impulses in the Czar's mind.
He saw that Alexander, interested as he was in Italy and Spain, would never break with
that federation of the Courts which he had himself created, nor shake off the influences
of legitimism which had dominated him since the Congress of Aix-la-Chapelle.
Submitting when contention had become hopeless, and anticipating his inevitable fall
by a voluntary retirement from public affairs, Capodistrias, still high in credit and
reputation, quitted St. Petersburg under the form leave of absence, and withdrew to
Geneva, there to await events, and to enjoy the distinction of a patriot whom love for
Greece had constrained to abandon one of the most splendid positions in Europe.
Grave, melancholy, and austere, as one who suffered with his country, Capodistrias
remained in private life till the vanquished cause had become the victorious one, and
the liberated Greek nation called him to place himself at its head.
[Central Greece.]
[Chalcidice.]
An international diplomatic campaign of vast activity and duration began in the year
1821, but the contest of arms was left, as Metternich desired, to the Greeks and the
Turks alone. The first act of the war was the insurrection of the Morea: the second was
the extension of this insurrection over parts of Continental Greece and the Archipelago,
and its summary extinction by the Turk in certain districts, which in consequence
remained for the future outside the area of hostilities, and so were not ultimately
included in the Hellenic Kingdom. Central Greece, that is, the country lying
immediately north of the Corinthian Gulf, broke into revolt a few weeks later than the
Morea. The rising against the Mohammedans was distinguished by the same merciless
spirit: the men were generally massacred; the women, if not killed, were for the most
part sold into slavery; and when, after an interval of three years, Lord Byron came to
Missolonghi, he found that a miserable band of twenty-three captive women formed the
sole remnant of the Turkish population of that town. Thessaly, with some exceptions,
remained passive, and its inaction was of the utmost service to the Turkish cause; for
Ali Pasha in Epirus was now being besieged by the Sultan's armies, and if Thessaly had
risen in the rear of these troops, they could scarcely have escaped destruction.
Khurshid, the Ottoman commander conducting the siege of Janina, held firmly to his
task, in spite of the danger which threatened his communications, and in spite of the
circumstance that his whole household had fallen into the hands of the Moreot
insurgents. His tenacity saved the border-provinces for the Ottoman Empire. No
combination was effected between Ali and the Greeks, and at the beginning of 1822 the
Albanian chieftain lost both his stronghold and his life. In the remoter district of
Chalcidice, on the Macedonian coast, where the promontory of Athos and the two
parallel peninsulas run out into the Ægæan, and a Greek population, clearly severed
from the Slavic inhabitants of the mainland, maintained its own communal and
religious organisation, the national revolt broke out under Hetærist leaders. The monks
of Mount Athos, like their neighbours, took up arms. But there was little sympathy
between the privileged chiefs of these abbeys and the desperate men who had come to
head the revolt. The struggle was soon abandoned; and, partly by force of arms, partly
by negotiation, the authority of the Sultan was restored without much difficulty
throughout this region.
The settlements of the Ægæan which first raised the flag of Greek independence were
the so-called Nautical Islands, Hydra, Spetza, and Psara, where the absence of a
Turkish population and the enjoyment of a century of self-government had allowed the
bold qualities of an energetic maritime race to grow to their full vigour. Hydra and
Spetza were close to the Greek coast, Psara was on the farther side of the archipelago,
almost within view of Asia Minor; so that in joining the insurrection its inhabitants
showed great heroism, for they were exposed to the first attack of any Turkish force
that could maintain itself for a few hours at sea, and the whole adjacent mainland was
the recruiting-ground of the Sultan. At Hydra the revolt against the Ottoman was
connected with the internal struggles of the little community, and these in their turn
were connected with the great economical changes of Europe which, at the opposite
Within the Morea the first shock of the revolt had made the Greeks masters of
everything outside the fortified towns. The reduction of these places was at once
undertaken by the insurgents. Tripolitza, lately the seat of the Turkish government, was
the centre of operations, and in the neighbourhood of this town the first provisional
government of the Greeks, called the Senate of Kaltesti, was established. Demetrius
Hypsilanti, a brother of the Hetærist leader, whose failure in Roumania was not yet
known, landed in the Morea and claimed supreme power. He was tumultuously
welcomed by the peasant-soldiers, though the Primates, who had hitherto held
undisputed sway, bore him no good will. Two other men became prominent at this time
as leaders in the Greek war of liberation. These were Maurokordatos, a descendant of
the Hospodars of Wallachia-a politician superior to all his rivals in knowledge and
breadth of view, but wanting in the faculty of action required by the times-and
Kolokotrones, a type of the rough fighting Klepht; a mere savage in attainments,
scarcely able to read or write, cunning, grossly avaricious and faithless, incapable of
appreciating either military or moral discipline, but a born soldier in his own irregular
way, and a hero among peasants as ignorant as himself. There was yet another, who, if
his character had been equal to his station, would have been placed at the head of the
government of the Morea. This was Petrobei, chief of the family of Mauromichalis,
ruler of the rugged district of Maina, in the south-west of Peloponnesus, where the
Turk had never established more than nominal sovereignty. A jovial, princely person,
exercising among his clansmen a mild Homeric sway, Petrobei, surrounded by his nine
vigorous sons, was the most picturesque figure in Greece. But he had no genius for
great things. A sovereignty, which in other hands might have expanded to national
dominion, remained with Petrobei a mere ornament and curiosity; and the power of the
deeply-rooted clan-spirit of the Maina only made itself felt when, at a later period, the
organisation of a united Hellenic State demanded its sacrifice.
Anarchy, egotism, and ill-faith disgraced the Greek insurrection from its beginning to
its close. There were, indeed, some men of unblemished honour among the leaders, and
the peasantry in the ranks fought with the most determined courage year after year; but
the action of most of those who figured as representatives of the people brought
discredit upon the national cause. Their first successes were accompanied by gross
treachery and cruelty. Had the Greek leaders been Bourbon kings, nurtured in all the
sanctities of divine right, instead of tax-gatherers and cattle-lifters, truants from the
wild school of Turkish violence and deceit, they could not have perjured themselves
with lighter hearts. On the surrender of Navarino, in August, 1821, after a formal
capitulation providing for the safety of its Turkish inhabitants, men, women, and
children were indiscriminately massacred. The capture of Tripolitza, which took place
two months later, was changed from a peaceful triumph into a scene of frightful
slaughter by the avarice of individual chiefs, who, while negotiations were pending,
made their way into the town, and bargained with rich inhabitants to give them
protection in return for their money and jewels. The soldiery, who had undergone the
labours of the siege for six months, saw that their reward was being pilfered from them.
Defying all orders, and in the absence of Demetrius Hypsilanti, the
commander-in-chief, they rushed upon the fortifications of Tripolitza, and carried them
by storm. A general massacre of the inhabitants followed. For three days the work of
carnage was continued in the streets and houses, until few out of a population of many
thousands remained living. According to the testimony of Kolokotrones himself, the
roads were so choked with the dead, that as he rode from the gateway to the citadel his
horse's hoofs never touched the ground. [368]
In the opening scenes of the Greek insurrection the barbarity of Christians and of
Ottomans was perhaps on a level. The Greek revenged himself with the ferocity of the
slave who breaks his fetters; the Turk resorted to wholesale massacre and
extermination as the normal means of government in troubled times. And as experience
has shown that the savagery of the European yields in one generation to the influences
of civilised rule, while the Turk remains as inhuman to-day as he was under Mahmud
II., so the history of 1822 proved that the most devilish passions of the Greek were in
the end but a poor match for disciplined Turkish prowess in the work of butchery. It
was no easy matter for the Sultan to requite himself for the sack of Tripolitza upon
Kolokotrones and his victorious soldiers; but there was a peaceful and inoffensive
population elsewhere, which offered all the conditions for free, unstinted, and
unimperilled vengeance which the Turk desires. A body of Samian troops had landed
in Chios, and endeavoured, but with little success, to excite the inhabitants to revolt,
the absence of the Greek fleet rendering them an almost certain prey to the Sultan's
troops on the mainland. The Samian leader nevertheless refused to abandon the
enterprise, and laid siege to the citadel, in which there was a Turkish garrison. Before
this fortress could be reduced, a relieving army of seven thousand Turks, with hosts of
fanatical volunteers, landed on the island. The Samians fled; the miserable population
of Chios was given up to massacre. For week after week the soldiery and the roving
hordes of Ottomans slew, pillaged, and sold into slavery at their pleasure. In parts of
the island where the inhabitants took refuge in the monasteries, they were slaughtered
by thousands together; others, tempted back to their homes by the promulgation of an
amnesty, perished family by family. The lot of those who were spared was almost more
The impression made upon public opinion in Europe by the massacre of 1822 was a
deep and lasting one, although it caused no immediate change in the action of
Governments. The general feeling of sympathy for the Greeks and hatred for the Turks,
which ultimately forced the Governments to take up a different policy, was intensified
by a brilliant deed of daring by which a Greek captain avenged the Chians upon their
devastor, and by the unexpected success gained by the insurgents on the mainland
against powerful armies of the Sultan. The Greek executive, which was now headed by
Maurokordatos, had been guilty of gross neglect in not sending over the fleet in time to
prevent the Turks from landing in Chios. When once this landing had been effected, the
ships which afterwards arrived were powerless to prevent the massacre, and nothing
could be attempted except against the Turkish fleet itself. The instrument of destruction
employed by the Greeks was the fire-ship, which had been used with success against
the Turk in these same waters in the war of 1770. The sacred month of the Ramazan
was closing, and on the night of June 18, Kara Ali, the Turkish commander, celebrated
the festival of Bairam with above a thousand men on board his flag-ship. The vessel
was illuminated with coloured lanterns. In the midst of the festivities, Constantine
Kanaris, a Psarian captain, brought his fire-ship unobserved right up to the Turkish
man-of-war, and drove his bowsprit firmly into one of her portholes; then, after setting
fire to the combustibles, he stepped quietly into a row-boat, and made away. A breeze
was blowing, and in a moment the Turkish crew were enveloped in a mass of flames.
The powder on board exploded; the boats were sunk; and the vessel, with its doomed
crew, burned to the water-edge, its companions sheering off to save themselves from
the shower of blazing fragments that fell all around. Kara Ali was killed by a broken
mast; a few of his men saved their lives by swimming or were picked up by rescuers;
the rest perished. Such was the consternation caused by the deed of Kanaris, that the
Ottoman fleet forthwith quitted the Ægæan waters, and took refuge under the guns of
the Dardanelles. Kanaris, unknown before, became from this exploit a famous man in
Europe. It was to no stroke of fortune or mere audacity that he owed his success, but to
the finest combination of nerve and nautical skill. His feat, which others were
constantly attempting, but with little success, to imitate, was repeated by him in the
same year. He was the most brilliant of Greek seamen, a simple and modest hero; and
after his splendid achievements in the war of liberation, he served his country well in a
political career. Down to his death in a hale old age, he was with justice the idol and
pride of the Greek nation.
The fall of the Albanian rebel, Ali Pasha, in the spring of 1822 made it possible for
Sultan Mahmud, who had hitherto been crippled by the resistance of Janina, to throw
his whole land-force against the Hellenic revolt; and the Greeks of the mainland, who
had as yet had to deal only with scattered detachments or isolated garrisons, now found
themselves exposed to the attack of two powerful armies. Kurshid, the conqueror of Ali
Pasha, took up his headquarters at Larissa in Thessaly, and from this base the two
invading armies marched southwards on diverging lines. The first, under Omer Brionis,
was ordered to make its way through Southern Epirus to the western entrance of the
Corinthian Gulf, and there to cross into the Morea; the second, under Dramali, to
reduce Central Greece, and enter the Morea by the isthmus of Corinth; the conquest of
Tripolitza and the relief of the Turkish coast-fortresses which were still uncaptured
being the ultimate end to be accomplished by the two armies in combination with one
another and with the Ottoman fleet. Not less than fifty thousand men were under the
orders of the Turkish commanders, the division of Dramali being by far the larger of
the two. Against this formidable enemy the Greeks possessed poor means of defence,
nor were their prospects improved when Maurokordatos, the President, determined to
take a military command, and to place himself at the head of the troops in Western
Greece. There were indeed urgent reasons for striking with all possible force in this
quarter. The Suliotes, after seventeen years of exile in Corfu, had returned to their
mountains, and were now making common cause with Greece. They were both the
military outwork of the insurrection, and the political link between the Hellenes and the
Christian communities of Albania, whose action might become of decisive importance
in the struggle against the Turks. Maurokordatos rightly judged the relief of Suli to be
the first and most pressing duty of the Government. Under a capable leader this effort
would not have been beyond the power of the Greeks; directed by a politician who
knew nothing of military affairs, it was perilous in the highest degree. Maurokordatos,
taking the command out of abler hands, pushed his troops forward to the
neighbourhood of Arta, mismanaged everything, and after committing a most
important post to Botzares, an Albanian chieftain of doubtful fidelity, left two small
regiments exposed to the attack of the Turks in mass. One of these regiments, called the
corps of Philhellenes, was composed of foreign officers who had volunteered to serve
in the Greek cause as common soldiers. Its discipline was far superior to anything that
existed among the Greeks themselves; and at its head were men who had fought in
Napoleon's campaigns. But this corps, which might have become the nucleus of a
regular army, was sacrificed to the incapacity of the general and the treachery of his
confederate. Betrayed and abandoned by the Albanian, the Philhellenes met the attack
of the Turks gallantly, and almost all perished. Maurokordatos and the remnant of the
Greek troops now retired to Missolonghi. The Suliotes, left to their own resources,
were once more compelled to quit their mountain home, and to take refuge in Corfu.
Their resistance, however, delayed the Turks for some months, and it was not until the
beginning of November that the army of Omer Brionis, after conquering the
intermediate territory, appeared in front of Missolonghi. Here the presence of
Maurokordatos produced a better effect than in the field. He declared that he would
never leave the town as long as a man remained to fight the Turks. Defences were
erected, and the besiegers kept at bay for two months. On the 6th of January, 1823,
Brionis ordered an assault. It was beaten back with heavy loss; and the Ottoman
commander, hopeless of maintaining his position throughout the winter, abandoned his
In the meantime Dramali had advanced from Thessaly with twenty-four thousand
infantry and six thousand cavalry, the most formidable armament that had been seen in
Greece since the final struggle between the Turks and Venetians in 1715. At the terror
of his approach all hopes of resistance vanished. He marched through Boeotia and
Attica, devastating the country, and reached the isthmus of Corinth in July, 1822. The
mountain passes were abandoned by the Greeks; the Government, whose seat was at
Argos, dispersed; and Dramali moved on to Nauplia, where the Turkish garrison was
on the point of surrendering to the Greeks. The entrance to the Morea had been won;
the very shadow of a Greek government had disappeared, and the definite suppression
of the revolt seemed now to be close at hand. But two fatal errors of the enemy saved
the Greek cause. Dramali neglected to garrison the passes through which he had
advanced; and the commander of the Ottoman fleet, which ought to have met the
land-force at Nauplia, disobeyed his instructions and sailed on to Patras. Two Greeks,
at this crisis of their country's history, proved themselves equal to the call of events.
Demetrius Hypsilanti, now President of the Legislature, refused to fly with his
colleagues, and threw himself, with a few hundred men, into the Acropolis of Argos.
Kolokotrones, hastening to Tripolitza, called out every man capable of bearing arms,
and hurried back to Argos, where the Turks were still held at bay by the defenders of
the citadel. Dramali could no longer think of marching into the interior of the Morea.
The gallantry of Demetrius had given time for the assemblage of a considerable force,
and the Ottoman general now discovered the ruinous effect of his neglect to garrison
the passes in his rear. These were seized by Kolokotrones. The summer-drought
threatened the Turkish army with famine; the fleet which would have rendered them
independent of land-supplies was a hundred miles away; and Dramali, who had lately
seen all Greece at his feet, now found himself compelled to force his way back through
the enemy to the isthmus of Corinth. The measures taken by Kolokotrones to intercept
his retreat were skilfully planned, and had they been adequately executed not a man of
the Ottoman army would have escaped. It was only through the disorder and the
cupidity of the Greeks themselves that a portion of Dramali's force succeeded in cutting
its way back to Corinth. Baggage was plundered while the retreating enemy ought to
have been annihilated, and divisions which ought to have co-operated in the main
attack sought trifling successes of their own. But the losses and the demoralisation of
the Turkish army were as ruinous to it as total destruction. Dramali himself fell ill and
died; and the remnant of his troops which had escaped from the enemy's hands perished
in the neighbourhood of Corinth from sickness and want.
The decisive events of 1822 opened the eyes of European Governments to the real
character of the Greek national rising, and to the probability of its ultimate success. The
forces of Turkey were exhausted for the moment, and during the succeeding year no
military operations could be undertaken by the Sultan on anything like the same scale.
It would perhaps have been better for the Greeks themselves if the struggle had been
more continuously sustained. Nothing but foreign pressure could give unity to the
efforts of a race distracted by so many local rivalries, and so many personal ambitions
After the destruction of Dramali's army and the failure of the Ottoman navy to effect
any result whatever, the Sultan appears to have conceived a doubt whether the
subjugation of Greece might not in fact be a task beyond his own unaided power. Even
if the mainland were conquered, it was certain that the Turkish fleet could never reduce
the islands, nor prevent the passage of supplies and reinforcements from these to the
ports of the Morea. Strenuous as Mahmud had hitherto shown himself in crushing his
vassals who, like Ali Pasha, attempted to establish an authority independent of the
central government, he now found himself compelled to apply to the most dangerous of
them all for assistance. Mehemet Ali, Pasha of Egypt, had risen to power in the
disturbed time that followed the expulsion of Napoleon's forces from Egypt. His fleet
was more powerful than that of Turkey. He had organised an army composed of Arabs,
negroes, and fellahs, and had introduced into it, by means of French officers, the
military system and discipline of Europe. The same reform had been attempted in
Turkey seventeen years before by Mahmud's predecessor, Selim III., but it had been
successfully resisted by the soldiery of Constantinople, and Selim had paid for his
innovations with his life. Mahmud, silent and tenacious, had long been planning the
destruction of the Janissaries, the mutinous and degraded representatives of a once
irresistible force, who would now neither fight themselves nor permit their rulers to
organise any more effective body of troops in their stead. It is possible that the Sultan
may have believed that a victory won over the enemies of Islam by the re-modelled
forces of Egypt would facilitate the execution of his own plans of military reform; it is
also possible that he may not have been unwilling to see his vassal's resources
dissipated by a distant and hazardous enterprise. Not without some profound conviction
of the urgency of the present need, not without some sinister calculation as to the
means of dealing with an eventual rival in the future, was the offer of
aggrandisement-if we may judge from the whole tenor of Sultan Mahmud's career and
policy-made to the Pasha of Egypt by his jealous and far-seeing master. The Pasha was
invited to assume the supreme command of the Ottoman forces by land and sea, and
was promised the island of Crete in return for his co-operation against the Hellenic
revolt. Messages to this effect reached Alexandria at the beginning of 1824. Mehemet,
whose ambition had no limits, welcomed the proposals of his sovereign with ardour,
and, while declining the command for himself, accepted it on behalf of Ibrahim, his
adopted son.
[Turkish-Egyptian plans.]
The most vigorous preparations for war were now made at Alexandria. The army was
raised to 90,000 men, and new ships were added to the navy from English dockyards.
A scheme was framed for the combined operation of the Egyptian and the Turkish
forces which appeared to render the ultimate conquest of Greece certain. It was agreed
that the island of Crete, which is not sixty miles distant from the southern extremity of
the Morea, should be occupied by Ibrahim, and employed as his place of arms; that
simultaneous or joint attacks should then be made upon the principal islands of the
Ægæan; and that after the capture of these strongholds and the destruction of the
maritime resources of the Greeks, Ibrahim's troops should pass over the narrow sea
between Crete and the Morea, and complete their work by the reduction of the
mainland, thus left destitute of all chance of succour from without. Crete, like Sicily, is
a natural stepping-stone between Europe and Africa; and when once the assistance of
Egypt was invoked by the Sultan, it was obvious that Crete became the position which
above all others it was necessary for the Greeks to watch and to defend. But the
wretched Government of Konduriottes was occupied with its domestic struggles. The
appeal of the Cretans for protection remained unanswered, and in the spring of 1824 a
strong Egyptian force landed on this island, captured its fortresses, and suppressed the
resistance of the inhabitants with the most frightful cruelty. The base of operations had
been won, and the combined attacks of the Egyptian and Turkish fleets upon the
smaller islands followed. Casos, about thirty miles east of Crete, was surprised by the
Egyptians, and its population exterminated. Psara was selected for the attack of the
Turkish fleet. Since the beginning of the insurrection the Psariotes had been the
scourge and terror of the Ottoman coasts. The services that they had rendered in the
Greek navy had been priceless; and if there was one spot of Greek soil which ought to
have been protected as long as a single boat's crew remained afloat, it was the little
rock of Psara. Yet, in spite of repeated warnings, the Greek Government allowed the
Turkish fleet to pass the Dardanelles unobserved, and some clumsy feints were enough
to blind it to the real object of an expedition whose aim was known to all Europe.
There were ample means for succouring the islanders, as subsequent events proved; but
when the Turkish admiral, Khosrew, with 10,000 men on board, appeared before Psara,
the Greek fleet was far away. The Psariotes themselves were over-confident. They
trusted to their batteries on land, and believed their rocks to be impregnable. They were
soon undeceived. While a corps of Albanians scaled the cliffs behind the town, the
Turks gained a footing in front, and overwhelmed their gallant enemy by weight of
numbers. No mercy was asked or given. Eight thousand of the Psarians were slain or
carried away as slaves. Not more than one-third of the population succeeded in
escaping to the neighbouring islands. [370]
The first part of the Turko-Egyptian plan had thus been successfully accomplished, and
if Khosrew had attacked Samos immediately after his first victory, this island would
probably have fallen before help could arrive. But, like other Turkish commanders,
Khosrew loved intervals of repose, and he now sailed off to Mytilene to celebrate the
festival of Bairam. In the meantime the catastrophe of Psara had aroused the Hydriote
Government to a sense of its danger. A strong fleet was sent across the Ægæan, and
adequate measures were taken to defend Samos both by land and sea. The Turkish fleet
was attacked with some success, and though Ibrahim with the Egyptian contingent now
reached the coast of Asia Minor, the Greeks proved themselves superior to their
adversaries combined. The operations of the Mussulman commanders led to no result;
they were harassed and terrified by the Greek fireships; and when at length all hope of
a joint conquest of Samos had been abandoned, and Ibrahim set sail for Crete to carry
out his own final enterprise alone, he was met on the high seas by the Greeks, and
driven back to the coast of Asia Minor. During the autumn of 1824 the disasters of the
preceding months were to some extent retrieved, and the situation of the Egyptian fleet
would have become one of some peril if the Greeks had maintained their guard
throughout the winter. But they underrated the energy of Ibrahim, and surrendered
themselves to the belief that he would not repeat the attempt to reach Crete until the
following spring. Careless, or deluded by false information, they returned to Hydra,
and left the seas unwatched. Ibrahim saw his opportunity, and, setting sail for Crete at
the beginning of December, he reached it without falling in with the enemy.
The snowy heights of Taygetus are visible on a clear winter's day from the Cretan
coast; yet, with their enemy actually in view of them, the Greeks neglected to guard the
passage to the Morea. On the 22nd of February, 1825, Ibrahim crossed the sea
unopposed and landed five thousand men at Modon. He was even able to return to
Crete and bring over a second contingent of superior strength before any steps were
taken to hinder his movements. The fate of the mainland was now settled. Ibrahim
marched from Modon upon Navarino, defeated the Greek forces on the way, and
captured the garrison placed in the Island of Sphakteria-the scene of the first famous
surrender of the Spartans-before the Greek fleet could arrive to relieve it. The forts of
Navarino then capitulated, and Ibrahim pushed on his victorious march towards the
centre of the Morea. It was in vain that the old chief Kolokotrones was brought from
his prison at Hydra to take supreme command. The conqueror of Dramali was unable to
resist the onslaught of Ibrahim's regiments, recruited from the fierce races of the
Soudan, and fighting with the same arms and under the same discipline as the best
troops in Europe. Kolokotrones was driven back through Tripolitza, and retired as the
Russians had retired from Moscow, leaving a deserted capital behind him. Ibrahim
gave his troops no rest; he hurried onwards against Nauplia, and on the 24th of June
reached the summit of the mountain-pass that looks down upon the Argolic Gulf. "Ah,
little island," he cried, as he saw the rock of Hydra stretched below him, "how long wilt
thou escape me?" At Nauplia itself the Egyptian commander rode up to the very gates
and scanned the defences, which he hoped to carry at the first assault. Here, however, a
check awaited him. In the midst of general flight and panic, Demetrius Hypsilanti was
again the undaunted soldier. He threw himself with some few hundreds of men into the
One episode of the deepest tragic interest yet remained in the Turko-Hellenic conflict
before the Powers of Europe stepped in and struck with weapons stronger than those
which had fallen from dying hands. The town of Missolonghi was now beleaguered by
the Turks, who had invaded Western Greece while Ibrahim was overrunning the
Morea. Missolonghi had already once been besieged without success; and, as in the
case of Saragossa, the first deliverance appears to have inspired the townspeople with
the resolution, maintained even more heroically at Missolonghi than at the Spanish
city, to die rather than capitulate. From the time when Reschid, the Turkish
commander, opened the second attack by land and sea in the spring of 1825, the
garrison and the inhabitants met every movement of the enemy with the most obstinate
resistance. It was in vain that Reschid broke through the defences with his artillery, and
threw mass after mass upon the breaches which he made. For month after month the
assaults of the Turks were uniformly repelled, until at length the arrival of a Hydriote
squadron forced the Turkish fleet to retire from its position, and made the situation of
Reschid himself one of considerable danger. And now, as winter approached, and the
guerilla bands in the rear of the besiegers grew more and more active, the Egyptian
army with its leader was called from the Morea to carry out the task in which the Turks
had failed. The Hydriote sea-captains had departed, believing their presence to be no
longer needed; and although they subsequently returned for a short time, their services
were grudgingly rendered and ineffective. Ibrahim, settling down to his work at the
beginning of 1826, conducted his operations with the utmost vigour, boasting that he
would accomplish in fourteen days what the Turks could not effect in nine months. But
his veteran soldiers were thoroughly defeated when they met the Greeks hand to hand;
and the Egyptian, furious with his enemy, his allies, and his own officers, confessed
that Missolonghi could only be taken by blockade. He now ordered a fleet of
flat-bottomed boats to be constructed and launched upon the lagoons that lie between
Missolonghi and the open sea. Missolonghi was thus completely surrounded; and when
the Greek admirals appeared for the last time and endeavoured to force an entrance
through the shallows, they found the besieger in full command of waters inaccessible to
themselves, and after one unsuccessful effort abandoned Missolonghi to its fate. In the
From Missolonghi the tide of Ottoman conquest rolled eastward, and the Acropolis of
Athens was in its turn the object of a long and arduous siege. The Government, which
now held scarcely any territory on the mainland except Nauplia, where it was itself
threatened by Ibrahim, made the most vigorous efforts to prevent the Acropolis from
falling into Reschid's hands. All, however, was in vain. The English officers, Church
and Cochrane, who were now placed at the head of the military and naval forces of
Greece, failed ignominiously in the attacks which they made on Reschid's besieging
army; and the garrison capitulated on June 5, 1827. But the time was past when the
liberation of Greece could be prevented by any Ottoman victory. The heroic defence of
the Missolonghiots had achieved its end. Greece had fought long enough to enlist the
Powers of Europe on its side; and in the same month that Missolonghi fell the policy of
non-intervention was definitely abandoned by those Governments which were best able
to carry their intentions into effect. If the struggle had ended during the first three years
of the insurrection, no hand would have been raised to prevent the restoration of the
Sultan's rule. Russia then lay as if spell-bound beneath the diplomacy of the Holy
Alliance; and although in the second year of the war the death of Castlereagh and the
accession of Canning to power had given Greece a powerful friend instead of a
powerful foe within the British Ministry, it was long before England stirred from its
neutrality. Canning indeed made no secret of his sympathies for Greece, and of his
desire to give the weaker belligerent such help as a neutral might afford; but when he
A vigorous movement of public opinion in favour of Greece made itself felt throughout
Western Europe as the struggle continued; and the vivid and romantic interest excited
over the whole civilised world by the death of Lord Byron in 1823, among the people
whom he had come to free, probably served the Greek cause better than all that Byron
could have achieved had his life been prolonged. In France and England, where public
opinion had great influence on the action of the Government, as well as in Germany,
where it had none whatever, societies were formed for assisting the Greeks with arms,
stores, and money. The first proposal, however, for a joint intervention in favour of
Greece came from St. Petersburg. The undisguised good-will of Canning towards the
insurgents led the Czar's Government to anticipate that England itself might soon
assume that championship of the Greek cause which Russia, at the bidding of
Metternich and of Canning's predecessor, had up to that time declined. If the Greeks
were to be befriended, it was intolerable that others should play the part of the patron.
Accordingly, on the 12th of January, 1824, a note was submitted in the Czar's name to
all the Courts of Europe, containing a plan for a settlement of the Greek question,
which it was proposed that the great Powers of Europe should enforce upon Turkey
either by means of an armed demonstration or by the threat of breaking off all
diplomatic relations. According to this scheme, Greece, apart from the islands, was to
be divided into three Principalities, each tributary to the Sultan and garrisoned by
Turkish troops, but in other respects autonomous, like the Principalities of Moldavia
and Wallachia. The islands were to retain their municipal organisation as before. In one
respect this scheme was superior to all that have succeeded it, for it included in the
territory of the Greeks both Crete and Epirus; in all other respects it was framed in the
interest of Russia alone. Its object was simply to create a second group of provinces,
like those on the Danube, which should afford Russia a constant opportunity for
interfering with the Ottoman Empire, and which at the same time should prevent the
Greeks from establishing an independent and self-supporting State. The design cannot
be called insidious, for its object was so palpable that not a single politician in Europe
was deceived by it; and a very simple ruse of Metternich's was enough to draw from
the Russian Government an explicit declaration against the independence of Greece,
which was described by the Czar as a mere chimera. But of all the parties concerned,
the Greeks themselves were loudest in denounciation of the Russian plan. Their
Government sent a protest against it to London, and was assured by Canning in reply
that the support of this country should never be given to any scheme for disposing of
the Greeks without their own consent. Elsewhere the Czar's note was received with
expressions of politeness due to a Court which it might be dangerous to contradict; and
a series of conferences was opened at St. Petersburg for the purpose of discussing
propositions which no one intended to carry into execution. Though Canning ordered
the British ambassador at St. Petersburg to dissociate himself from these proceedings,
the conferences dragged on, with long adjournments, from the spring of 1824 to the
summer of the following year. [371]
Alexander, aware of the rising indignation of his people, and irritated beyond
endurance by the failure of his diplomatic efforts, had dissolved the St. Petersburg
Conferences in August, 1825, and declared that Russia would henceforth act according
to its own discretion. He quitted St. Petersburg and travelled to the Black Sea,
accompanied by some of the leaders of the war-party. Here, plunged in a profound
melancholy, conscious that all his early hopes had only served to surround him with
conspirators, and that his sacrifice of Russia's military interests to international peace
had only rendered his country impotent before all Europe, he still hesitated to make the
final determination between peace and war. A certain mystery hung over his
movements, his acts, and his intentions. Suddenly, while all Europe waited for the
signal that should end the interval of suspense, the news was sent out from a lonely port
on the Black Sea that the Czar was dead. Alexander, still under fifty years of age, had
welcomed the illness which carried him from a world of cares, and closed a career in
which anguish and disappointment had succeeded to such intoxicating glory and such
unbounded hope. Young as he still was for one who had reigned twenty-four years,
Alexander was of all men the most life-weary. Power, pleasure, excitement, had
The sudden death of Alexander threw the Russian Court into the greatest confusion, for
it was not known who was to succeed him. The heir to the throne was his brother
Constantine, an ignorant and brutal savage, who had just sufficient sense not to desire
to be Czar of Russia, though he considered himself good enough to tyrannise over the
Poles. Constantine had renounced his right to the crown some years before, but the
renunciation had not been made public, nor had the Grand Duke Nicholas,
Constantine's younger brother, been made aware that the succession was irrevocably
fixed upon himself. Accordingly, when the news of Alexander's death reached St.
Petersburg, and the document embodying Constantine's abdication was brought from
the archives by the officials to whose keeping it had been entrusted, Nicholas refused to
acknowledge it as binding, and caused the troops to take the oath of allegiance to
Constantine, who was then at Warsaw. Constantine, on the other hand, proclaimed his
brother emperor. An interregnum of three weeks followed, during which messages
passed between Warsaw and St. Petersburg, Nicholas positively refusing to accept the
crown unless by his elder brother's direct command. This at length arrived, and on the
26th of December Nicholas assumed the rank of sovereign. But the interval of
uncertainty had been turned to good account by the conspirators at St. Petersburg. The
oath already taken by the soldiers to Constantine enabled the officers who were
concerned in the plot to denounce Nicholas as a usurper, and to disguise their real
designs under the cloak of loyalty to the legitimate Czar. Ignorant of the very meaning
of a constitution, the common soldiers mutinied because they were told to do so; and it
is said that they shouted the word Constitution, believing it to be the name of
Constantine's wife. When summoned to take the oath to Nicholas, the Moscow
Regiment refused it, and marched off to the place in front of the Senate House, where it
formed square, and repulsed an attack made upon it by the Cavalry of the Guard.
Companies from other regiments now joined the mutineers, and symptoms of
insurrection began to show themselves among the civil population. Nicholas himself
did not display the energy of character which distinguished him through all his later
life; on the contrary, his attitude was for some time rather that of resignation than of
self-confidence. Whether some doubt as to the justice of his cause haunted him, or a
trial like that to which he was now exposed was necessary to bring to its full strength
the iron quality of his nature, it is certain that the conduct of the new Czar during these
critical hours gave to those around him little indication of the indomitable will which
was hence forth to govern Russia. Though the great mass of the army remained
obedient, it was but slowly brought up to the scene of revolt. Officers of high rank were
sent to harangue the insurgents, and one of these, General Miloradovitsch, a veteran of
It has been stated, and with some probability of truth, that the military insurrection of
1825 disposed the new Czar to a more vigorous policy abroad. The conspirators, when
on their trial, declared it to have been their intention to throw the army at once into an
attack upon the Turks; and in so doing they would certainly have had the feeling of the
nation on their side. Nicholas himself had little or no sympathy for the Greeks. They
were a democratic people, and the freedom which they sought to gain was nothing but
anarchy. "Do not speak of the Greeks," he said to the representative of a foreign power,
"I call them the rebels." Nevertheless, little as Nicholas wished to serve the Greek
democracy, both inclination and policy urged him to make an end of his predecessor's
faint-hearted system of negotiation, and to bring the struggle in the East to a summary
close. Canning had already, in conversation with the Russian ambassador at London,
discussed a possible change of policy on the part of the two rival Courts. He now saw
that time had come for establishing new relations between Great Britain and Russia,
and for attempting that co-operation in the East which he had held to be impracticable
during Alexander's reign. The Duke of Wellington was sent to St. Petersburg,
nominally to offer the usual congratulations to the new sovereign, in reality to dissuade
him from going to war, and to propose either the separate intervention of England or a
joint intervention by England and Russia on behalf of Greece. The mission was
successful. It was in vain that Metternich endeavoured to entangle the new Czar in the
diplomatic web that had so long held his predecessor. The spell of the Holy Alliance
was broken. Nicholas looked on the past influence of Austria on the Eastern Question
only with resentment; he would hear of no more conferences of ambassadors; and on
the 4th of April, 1826, a Protocol was signed at St. Petersburg, by which Great Britain
and Russia fixed the conditions under which the mediation of the former Power was to
be tendered to the Porte. Greece was to remain tributary to the Sultan; it was, however,
to be governed by its own elected authorities, and to be completely independent in its
commercial relations. The policy known in our own day as that of bag-and-baggage
expulsion was to be carried out in a far more extended sense than that in which it has
been advocated by more recent champions of the subject races of the East; the Protocol
of 1826 stipulating for the removal not only of Turkish officials but of the entire
surviving Turkish population of Greece. All property belonging to the Turks, whether
on the continent or in the islands, was to be purchased by the Greeks. [373]
France, on whose action much more depended, was now governed wholly in the
interests of the Legitimist party. Louis XVIII. had died in 1824, and the Count of
Artois had succeeded to the throne, under the title of Charles X. The principles of the
Legitimists would logically have made them defenders of the hereditary rights of the
Sultan against his rebellious subjects; but the Sultan, unlike Ferdinand of Spain, was
not a Bourbon nor even a Christian; and in a case where the legitimate prince was an
infidel and the rebels were Christians, the conscience of the most pious Legitimist
might well recoil from the perilous task of deciding between the divine rights of the
Crown and the divine rights of the Church, and choose, in so painful an emergency, the
simpler course of gratifying the national love of action. There existed, both among
Liberals and among Ultramontanes, a real sympathy for Greece, and this interest was
almost the only one in which all French political sections felt that they had something
in common. Liberals rejoiced in the prospect of making a new free State in Europe;
Catholics, like Charles X. himself, remembered Saint Louis and the Crusades;
diplomatists understood the extreme importance of the impending breach between
Austria and Russia, and of the opportunity of allying France with the latter Power.
Thus the natural and disinterested impulse of the greater part of the public coincided
exactly with the dictates of a far-seeing policy; and the Government, in spite of its
Legitimist principles and of some assurances given to Metternich in person when he
visited Paris in 1825, determined to accept the policy of the Anglo-Russian intervention
in the East, and to participate in the active measures about to be taken by the two
Powers. The Protocol of St. Petersburg formed the basis of a definitive treaty which
was signed at London in July, 1827. By this act England, Russia, and France undertook
to put an end to the conflict in the East, which, through the injury done to the
commerce of all nations, had become a matter of European concern. The contending
[Policy of Canning.]
Scarcely was the Treaty of London signed when Canning died. He had definitely
broken from the policy of his predecessors, that policy which, for the sake of guarding
against Russia's advance, had condemned the Christian races of the East to 1827.
eternal subjection to the Turk, and bound up Great Britain with the Austrian system of
resistance to the very principle and name of national independence. Canning was no
blind friend to Russia. As keenly as any of his adversaries he appreciated the
importance of England's interests in the East; of all English statesmen of that time he
would have been the last to submit to any diminution of England's just influence or
power. But, unlike his predecessors, he saw that there were great forces at work which,
whether with England's concurrence or in spite of it, would accomplish that revolution
in the East for which the time was now come; and he was statesman enough not to
acquiesce in the belief that the welfare of England was in permanent and necessary
antagonism to the moral interests of mankind and the better spirit of the age. Therefore,
instead of attempting to maintain the integrity of the Ottoman Empire, or holding aloof
and resorting to threats and armaments while Russia accomplished the liberation of
Greece by itself, he united with Russia in this work, and relied on concerted action as
the best preventive against the undue extension of Russia's influence in the East. In
committing England to armed intervention, Canning no doubt hoped that the settlement
of the Greek question arranged by the Powers would be peacefully accepted by the
Sultan, and that a separate war between Russia and the Porte, on this or any other issue,
would be averted. Neither of these hopes was realised. The joint-intervention had to be
enforced by arms, and no sooner had the Allies struck their common blow than a war
between Turkey and Russia followed. How far the course of events might have been
modified had Canning's life not been cut short it is impossible to say; but whether his
statesmanship might or might not have averted war on the Danube, the balance of
results proved his policy to have been the right one. Greece was established as an
independent State, to supply in the future a valuable element of resistance to Slavic
preponderance in the Levant; and the encounter between Russia and Turkey, so long
dreaded, produced none of those disastrous effects which had been anticipated from it.
On the relative value of Canning's statesmanship as compared with that of his
predecessors, the mind of England and of Europe has long been made up. He stands
among those who have given to this country its claim to the respect of mankind. His
The death of Canning, which brought his rival, the Duke of Wellington, after a short
interval to the head of affairs, caused at the moment no avowed change in the execution
of his plans. In accordance with the provisions of the Treaty of London the mediation
of the allied Powers was at once tendered to the belligerents, and an armistice
demanded. The armistice was accepted by the Greeks; it was contemptuously refused
by the Turks. In consequence of this refusal the state of war continued, as it would have
been absurd to ask the Greeks to sit still and be massacred because the enemy declined
to lay down his arms. The Turk being the party resisting the mediation agreed upon, it
became necessary to deprive him of the power of continuing hostilities. Heavy
reinforcements had just arrived from Egypt, and an expedition was on the point of
sailing from Navarino, the gathering place of Ibrahim's forces, against Hydra, the
capture of which would have definitely made an end of the Greek insurrection. Admiral
Codrington, the commander of the British fleet, and the French Admiral De Rigny,
were now off the coast of Greece. They addressed themselves to Ibrahim, and required
from him a promise that he would make no movement until further orders should arrive
from Constantinople. Ibrahim made this promise verbally on the 25th of September. A
few days later, however, Ibrahim learnt that while he himself was compelled to be
inactive, the Greeks, continuing hostilities as they were entitled to do, had won a
brilliant naval victory under Captain Hastings within the Gulf of Corinth. Unable to
control his anger, he sailed out from the harbour of Navarino, and made for Patras.
Codrington, who had stationed his fleet at Zante, heard of the movement, and at once
threw himself across the track of the Egyptian, whom he compelled to turn back by an
energetic threat to sink his fleet. Had the French and Russian contingents been at hand,
Codrington would have taken advantage of Ibrahim's sortie to cut him off from all
Greek harbours, and to force him to return direct to Alexandria, thus peaceably
accomplishing the object of the intervention. This, however, to the misfortune of
Ibrahim's seamen, the English admiral could not do alone. Ibrahim re-entered
Navarino, and there found the orders of the Sultan for which it had been agreed that he
should wait. These orders were dictated by true Turkish infatuation. They bade Ibrahim
continue the subjugation of the Morea with the utmost vigour, and promised him the
assistance of Reschid Pasha, his rival in the siege of Missolonghi. Ibrahim, perfectly
reckless of the consequences, now sent out his devastating columns again. No life, and
nothing that could support life, was spared. Not only were the crops ravaged, but the
fruit-trees, which are the permanent support of the country, were cut down at the roots.
Clouds of fire and smoke from burning villages showed the English officers who
approached the coast in what spirit the Turk met their proposals for a pacification. "It is
supposed that if Ibrahim remained in Greece," wrote Captain Hamilton, "more than a
third of its inhabitants would die of absolute starvation."
It became necessary to act quickly, the more so as the season was far advanced, and a
winter blockade of Ibrahim's fleet was impossible. A message was sent to the Egyptian
head-quarters, requiring that hostilities should cease, that the Morea should be
evacuated, and the Turko-Egyptian fleet return to Constantinople and Alexandria. In
answer to this message there came back a statement that Ibrahim had left Navarino for
the interior of the country, and that it was not known where to find him. Nothing now
remained for the admirals but to make their presence felt. On the 18th of October it was
resolved that the English, French, and Russian fleets, which were now united, should
enter the harbour of Navarino in battle order. The movement was called a
demonstration, and in so far as the admirals had not actually determined upon making
an attack, it was not directly a hostile measure; but every gun was ready to open fire,
and it was well understood that any act of resistance on the part of the opposite fleet
would result in hostilities. Codrington, as senior officer, took command of the allied
squadron, and the instructions which he gave to his colleagues for the event of a
general engagement concluded with Nelson's words, that no captain could do very
wrong who placed his ship alongside that of an enemy.
Thus, ready to strike hard, the English admiral sailed into the harbour of Navarino at
noon on October 20, followed by the French and the Russians. The allied fleet
advanced to within pistol-shot of the Ottoman ships and there anchored. A little to the
windward of the position assigned to the English corvette Dartmouth there lay a
Turkish fire-ship. A request was made that this dangerous vessel might be removed to a
safer distance; it was refused, and a boat's crew was then sent to cut its cable. The boat
was received with musketry fire. This was answered by the Dartmouth and by a French
ship, and the battle soon became general. Codrington, still desirous to avoid bloodshed,
sent his pilot to Moharem Bey, who commanded in Ibrahim's absence, proposing to
withhold fire on both sides. Moharem replied with cannon-shot, killing the pilot and
striking Codrington's own vessel. This exhausted the patience of the English admiral,
who forthwith made his adversary a mere wreck. The entire fleets on both sides were
now engaged. The Turks had a superiority of eight hundred guns, and fought with
courage. For four hours the battle raged at close quarters in the land-locked harbour,
while twenty thousand of Ibrahim's soldiers watched from the surrounding hills the
struggle in which they could take no part. But the result of the combat was never for a
moment doubtful. The confusion and bad discipline of the Turkish fleet made it an easy
prey. Vessel after vessel was sunk or blown to pieces, and before evening fell the work
of the allies was done. When Ibrahim returned from his journey on the following day
he found the harbour of Navarino strewed with wrecks and dead bodies. Four thousand
of his seamen had fallen; the fleet which was to have accomplished the reduction of
Hydra was utterly ruined.[376]
Over all Greece it was at once felt that the nation was saved. The intervention of the
Powers had been sudden and decisive beyond the most sanguine hopes; and though this
intervention might be intended to establish something less than the complete
independence of Greece, the violence of the first collision bade fair to carry the work
By the Russian Government nothing was more ardently desired than a contest with
Turkey, in which England and France, after they had destroyed the Turkish fleet,
should be mere on-lookers, debarred by the folly of the Porte itself from prohibiting or
controlling hostilities between it and its neighbour. There might indeed be some want
of a pretext for war, since all the points of contention between Russia and Turkey other
than those relating to Greece had been finally settled in Russia's favour by a Treaty
signed at Akerman in October, 1826. But the spirit of infatuation had seized the Sultan,
or a secret hope that the Western Powers would in the last resort throw over the Court
of St. Petersburg led him to hurry on hostilities by a direct challenge to Russia. A
proclamation which reads like the work of some frantic dervish, though said to have
been composed by Mahmud himself, called the Mussulman world to arms. Russia was
denounced as the instigator of the Greek rebellion, and the arch-enemy of Islam. The
Treaty of Akerman was declared to have been extorted by compulsion and to have been
signed only for the purpose of gaining time. "Russia has imparted its own madness to
the other Powers and persuaded them to make an alliance to free the Rayah from his
Ottoman master. But the Turk does not count his enemies. The law forbids the people
of Islam to permit any injury to be done to their religion; and if all the unbelievers
together unite against them, they will enter on the war as a sacred duty, and trust in
The moment seized by Russia for the declaration of war was one singularly favourable
to itself and unfortunate for its adversary. Not only had the Turkish fleet been
destroyed by the neutrals, but the old Turkish force of the Janissaries had been
destroyed by its own master, and the new-modelled regiments which were to replace it
had not yet been organised. The Sultan had determined in 1826 to postpone his
long-planned military reform no longer, and to stake everything on one bold stroke
against the Janissaries. Troops enough were brought up from the other side of the
Bosphorus to make Mahmud certain of victory. The Janissaries were summoned to
contribute a proportion of their number to the regiments about to be formed on the
European pattern; and when they proudly refused to do so and raised the standard of
open rebellion they were cut to pieces and exterminated by Mahmud's Anatolian
soldiers in the midst of Constantinople. [377] The principal difficulty in the way of a
reform of the Turkish army was thus removed and the work of reorganisation was
earnestly taken in hand; but before there was time to complete it the enemy entered the
field. Mahmud had to meet the attack of Russia with an army greatly diminished in
number, and confused by the admixture of European and Turkish discipline. The
resources of the empire were exhausted by the long struggle with Greece, and, above
all, the destruction of the Janissaries had left behind it an exasperation which made the
Sultan believe that rebellion might at any moment break out in his own capital.
Nevertheless, in spite of its inherent weakness and of all the disadvantages under which
it entered into war, Turkey succeeded in prolonging its resistance through two
campaigns, and might, with better counsels, have tried the fortune of a third.
The actual military resources of Russia were in 1828 much below what they were
believed to be by all Europe. The destruction of Napoleon's army in 1812 and the
subsequent exploits of Alexander in the campaigns which ended in the capture of Paris
had left behind them an impression of Russian energy and power which was far from
corresponding with the reality, and which, though disturbed by the events of 1828, had
by no means vanished at the time of the Crimean War. The courage and patience of the
Russian soldier were certainly not over-rated; but the progress supposed to have been
made in Russian military organisation since the campaign of 1799, when it was
regarded in England and Austria as little above that of savages, was for the most part
imaginary. The proofs of a radically bad system-scanty numbers, failing supplies,
immense sickness-were never more conspicuous than in 1828. Though Russia had been
preparing for war for at least seven years, scarcely seventy thousand soldiers could be
collected on the Pruth. The general was Wittgenstein, one of the heroes of 1812, but
now a veteran past effective work. Nicholas came to the camp to make things worse by
headstrong interference. The best Russian officer, Paskiewitsch, was put in command
of the forces about to operate in Asia Minor, and there, thrown on his own resources
and free to create a system of his own, he achieved results in strong contrast to the
failure of the Russian arms on the Danube.
[Campaign of 1828.]
In entering on the campaign of 1828, it was necessary for the Czar to avoid giving any
unnecessary causes of anxiety to Austria, which had already made unsuccessful
attempts to form a coalition against him. The line of operations was therefore removed
as far as possible from the Austrian frontier; and after the Roumanian principalities had
been peacefully occupied, the Danube was crossed at a short distance above the point
where its mouths divide (June 7). The Turks had no intention of meeting the enemy in a
pitched battle; they confined themselves to the defence of fortresses, the form of
warfare to which, since the decline of the military art in Turkey, the patience and
abstemiousness of the race best fit them. Ibraila and Silistria on the Danube, Varna and
Shumla in the neighbourhood of the Balkans, were their principal strongholds; of these
Ibraila was at once besieged by a considerable force, while Silistria was watched by a
weak contingent, and the vanguard of the Russian army pushed on through the
Dobrudscha towards the Black Sea, where, with the capture of the minor coast-towns,
it expected to enter into communication with the fleet. The first few weeks of the
campaign were marked by considerable successes. Ibraila capitulated on the 18th of
June, and the military posts in the Dobrudscha fell one after another into the hands of
the invaders, who met with no effective resistance in this district. But their serious
work was only now beginning. The Russian army, in spite of its weakness, was divided
into three parts, occupied severally in front of Silistria, Shumla, and Varna. At Shumla
the mass of the Turkish army, under Omer Brionis, was concentrated. The force
brought against it by the invader was inadequate to its task, and the attempts which
were made to lure the Turkish army from its entrenched camp into the open field
proved unsuccessful. The difficulties of the siege proved so great that Wittgenstein
after a while proposed to abandon offensive operations at this point, and to leave a
mere corps of observation before the enemy until Varna should have fallen. This,
however, was forbidden by the Czar. As the Russians wasted away before Shumla with
sickness and fatigue, the Turks gained strength, and on the 24th of September Omer
broke out from his entrenchments and moved eastwards to the relief of Varna. Nicholas
again over-ruled his generals, and ordered his cousin, Prince Eugene of Würtemberg, to
attack the advancing Ottomans with the troops then actually at his disposal. Eugene did
so, and suffered a severe defeat. A vigorous movement of the Turks would probably
have made an end of the campaign, but Omer held back at the critical moment, and on
the 10th of October Varna surrendered. This, however, was the only conquest made by
the Russians. The season was too far advanced for them either to cross the Balkans or
to push forward operations against the uncaptured fortresses. Shumla and Silistria
remained in the hands of their defenders, and the Russians, after suffering enormous
losses in proportion to the smallness of their numbers, withdrew to Varna and the
Danube, to resume the campaign in the spring of the following year. [378]
[Campaign of 1829.]
The spirits of the Turks and of their European friends were raised by the unexpected
failure of the Czar's arms. Metternich resumed his efforts to form a coalition, and
tempted French Ministers with the prospect of recovering the Rhenish provinces, but in
Rumour magnified into hundreds of thousands the scanty columns which for the first
time carried the Russian flag over the Balkan range. Resistance everywhere collapsed.
The mountains were crossed without difficulty, and on the 19th of August the invaders
appeared before Adrianople, which immediately surrendered. Putting on the boldest
countenance in order to conceal his real weakness, Diebitsch now struck out right and
left, and sent detachments both to the Euxine and the Aegean coast. The fleet
co-operated with him, and the ports of the Black Sea, almost as far south as the
Bosphorus, fell into the invaders' hands. The centre of the army began to march upon
Constantinople. If the Sultan had known the real numbers of the force which threatened
his capital, a force not exceeding twenty thousand men, he would probably have
recognised that his assailant's position was a more dangerous one than his own.
Diebitsch had advanced into the heart of the enemy's country with a mere handful of
men. Sickness was daily thinning his ranks; his troops were dispersed over a wide area
from sea to sea; and the warlike tribes of Albania threatened to fall upon his
communications from the west. For a moment the Sultan spoke of fighting upon the
walls of Constantinople; but the fear of rebellion within his own capital, the discovery
of conspiracies, and the disasters sustained by his arms in Asia, where Kars and
Erzeroum had fallen into the enemy's hands, soon led him to make overtures of peace
and to accept the moderate terms which the Russian Government, aware of its own
difficulties, was willing to grant. It would have been folly for the Czar to stimulate the
growing suspicion of England and to court the attack of Austria by prolonging
The war between Turkey and Russia, while it left the European frontier between the
belligerents unchanged, exercised a two-fold influence upon the settlement of Greece.
On the one hand, by exciting the fears and suspicions of Great Britain, it caused the
Government of our own country, under the Duke of Wellington, to insist on the
limitation of the Greek State to the narrowest possible area; [381] on the other hand, by
reducing Turkey itself almost to the condition of a Russian dependency, it led to the
abandonment of the desire to maintain the Sultan's supremacy in any form over the
emancipated provinces, and resulted in the establishment of an absolutely independent
The Turks were still masters of the Morea when Capodistrias reached Greece. The
battle of Navarino had not caused Ibrahim to relax his hold upon the fortresses, and it
was deemed necessary by the Allies to send a French army-corps to dislodge him from
his position. This expeditionary force, under General Maison, landed in Greece in the
summer of 1828, and Ibrahim, not wishing to fight to the bitter end, contented himself
with burning Tripolitza to the ground and sowing it with salt, and then withdrew. The
war between Turkey and Russia had now begun. Capodistrias assisted the Russian fleet
in blockading the Dardanelles, and thereby gained for himself the marked ill-will of the
British Government. At a conference held in London by the representatives of France,
England, and Russia, in November, 1828, it was resolved that the operations of the
Allies should be limited to the Morea and the islands. Capodistrias, in consequence of
this decision, took the most vigorous measures for continuing the war against Turkey.
What the allies refused to guarantee must be won by force of arms; and during the
winter of 1829, while Russia pressed upon Turkey from the Danube, Capodistrias
succeeded in reconquering Missolonghi and the whole tract of country immediately to
the north of the Gulf of Corinth. The Porte, in prolonging its resistance after the
November conference, played as usual into its enemy's hands. The negotiations at
London were resumed in a spirit somewhat more favourable to Greece, and a Protocol
was signed on the 22nd of March, 1829, extending the northern frontier of Greece up to
a line drawn from the Gulf of Arta to the Gulf of Volo. Greece, according to this
Protocol, was still to remain under the Sultan's suzerainty: its ruler was to be a
hereditary prince belonging to one of the reigning European families, but not to any of
the three allied Courts. [383]
The mediation of Great Britain was now offered to the Porte upon the terms thus laid
down, and for the fourteenth time its mediation was rejected. But the end was near at
hand. Diebitsch crossed the Balkans, and it was in vain that the Sultan then proposed
the terms which he had scouted in November. The Treaty of Adrianople enforced the
decisions of the March Protocol. Greece escaped from a limitation of its frontier, which
would have left both Athens and Missolonghi Turkish territory. The principle of the
admission of the provinces north of the Gulf of Corinth within the Hellenic State was
established, and nothing remained for the friends of the Porte but to cut down to the
narrowest possible area the district which had been loosely indicated in the London
Protocol. While Russia, satisfied with its own successes against the Ottoman Empire
and anxious to play the part of patron of the conquered, ceased to interest itself in
Greece, the Government of Great Britain contested every inch of territory proposed to
be ceded to the new State, and finally induced the Powers to agree upon a
boundary-line which did not even in letter fulfil the conditions of the treaty. Northern
Acarnania and part of Ætolia were severed from Greece, and the frontier was drawn
from the mouth of the river Achelous to a spot near Thermopylae. On the other hand,
as Russian influence now appeared to be firmly established and likely to remain
paramount at Constantinople, the Western Powers had no motive to maintain the
Sultan's supremacy over Greece. This was accordingly by common consent abandoned;
and the Hellenic Kingdom, confined within miserably narrow limits on the mainland,
and including neither Crete nor Samos among its islands, was ultimately offered in full
sovereignty to Prince Leopold of Saxe-Coburg, the widower of Charlotte, daughter of
George IV. After some negotiations, in which Leopold vainly asked for a better
frontier, he accepted the Greek crown on the 11th of February, 1830.
[Government of Capodistrias.]
In the meantime, Capodistrias was struggling hard to govern and to organise according
to his own conceptions a land in which every element of anarchy, ruin, and confusion
appeared to be arrayed against the restoration of civilised life. The country was
devastated, depopulated, and in some places utterly barbarised. Out of a population of
little more than a million, it was reckoned that three hundred thousand had perished
during the conflict with the Turk. The whole fabric of political and social order had to
be erected anew; and, difficult as this task would have been for the wisest ruler, it was
rendered much more difficult by the conflict between Capodistrias' own ideal and the
character of the people among whom he had to work. Communal or local
self-government lay at the very root of Greek nationality. In many different forms this
intense provincialism had maintained itself unimpaired up to the end of the war, in
spite of national assemblies and national armaments. The Hydriote ship-owners, the
Primates of the Morea, the guerilla leaders of the north, had each a type of life and a
body of institutions as distinct as the dialects which they spoke or the saints whom they
cherished in their local sanctuaries. If antagonistic in some respects to national unity,
this vigorous local life had nevertheless been a source of national energy while Greece
had still its independence to win; and now that national independence was won, it
might well have been made the basis of a popular and effective system of
self-government. But to Capodistrias, as to greater men of that age, the unity of the
It was in the midst of this growing antagonism that the news reached Capodistrias that
Leopold of Saxe-Coburg had been appointed King of Greece. The resolution made by
the Powers in March, 1829, that the sovereign of Greece should belong to some
reigning house, had perhaps not wholly destroyed the hopes of Capodistrias that he
might become Prince or Hospodar of Greece himself. There were difficulties in the
way of filling the throne, and these difficulties, after the appointment of Leopold,
Capodistrias certainly did not seek to lessen. His subtlety, his command of the indirect
methods of effecting a purpose, were so great and so habitual to him that there was
little chance of his taking any overt step for preventing Leopold's accession to the
crown; there appears, however, to be evidence that he repressed the indications of
assent which the Greeks attempted to offer to Leopold; and a series of letters written by
him to that prince was probably intended, though in the most guarded language, to give
Leopold the impression that the task which awaited him was a hopeless one. Leopold
himself, at the very time when he accepted the crown, was wavering in his purpose. He
saw with perfect clearness that the territory granted to the Greek State was too small to
secure either its peace or its independence. The severance of Acarnania and Northern
Ætolia meant the abandonment of the most energetic part of the Greek inland
population, and a probable state of incessant warfare upon the northern frontier; the
relinquishment of Crete meant that Greece, bankrupt as it was, must maintain a navy to
protect the south coast of the Morea from Turkish attack. These considerations had
been urged upon the Powers by Leopold before he accepted the crown, and he had been
induced for the moment to withdraw them. But he had never fully acquiesced in the
arrangements imposed upon him: he remained irresolute for some months; and at last,
whether led to this decision by the letters of Capodistrias or by some other influences,
he declared the conditions under which he was called upon to rule Greece to be
intolerable, and renounced the crown (May, 1830). [384]
Capodistrias thus found himself delivered from his rival, and again face to face with the
task to which duty or ambition called him. The candidature of Leopold had embittered
the relations between Capodistrias and all who confronted him in Greece, for it gave
The death of Capodistrias excited sympathies and regrets which to a great extent
silenced criticism upon his government, and which have made his name one of those
most honoured by the Greek nation. His fall threw the country into anarchy. An attempt
was made by his brother Augustine to retain autocratic power, but the result was
universal dissension and the interference of the foreigner. At length the Powers united
in finding a second sovereign for Greece, and brought the weary scene of disorder to a
close. Prince Otho of Bavaria was sent to reign at Athens, and with him there came a
group of Bavarian officials to whom the Courts of Europe persuaded themselves that
the future of Greece might be safely entrusted. A frontier somewhat better than that
which had been offered to Leopold was granted to the new sovereign, but neither Crete,
Thessaly, nor Epirus was included within his kingdom. Thus hemmed in within
intolerably narrow limits, while burdened with the expenses of an independent state,
alike unable to meet the calls upon its national exchequer and to exclude the intrigues
of foreign Courts, Greece offered during the next generation little that justified the
hopes that had been raised as to its future. But the belief of mankind in the invigorating
power of national independence is not wholly vain, nor, even under the most hostile
conditions, will the efforts of a liberated people fail to attract the hope and the envy of
those branches of its race which still remain in subjection. Poor and inglorious as the
Greek kingdom was, it excited the restless longings not only of Greeks under Turkish
bondage, but of the prosperous Ionian Islands under English rule; and in 1864 the first
step in the expansion of the Hellenic kingdom was accomplished by the transfer of
these islands from Great Britain to Greece. Our own day has seen Greece further
strengthened and enriched by the annexation of Thessaly. The commercial and
educational development of the kingdom is now as vigorous as that of any State in
Europe: in agriculture and in manufacturing industry it still lingers far behind.
Following the example of Cavour and the Sardinian statesmen who judged no cost too
great in preparing for Italian union, the rulers of Greece burden the national finances
with the support of an army and navy excessive in comparison both with the resources
and with the present requirements of the State. To the ideal of a great political future
the material progress of the land has been largely sacrificed. Whether, in the
re-adjustment of frontiers which must follow upon the gradual extrusion of the Turk
from Eastern Europe, Greece will gain from its expenditure advantages proportionate
to the undoubted evils which it has involved, the future alone can decide.
CHAPTER XVI.
When the Congress of Vienna re-arranged the map of Europe after Napoleon's fall,
Lord Castlereagh expressed the opinion that no prudent statesman would forecast a
duration of more than seven years for any settlement that might then be made. At the
end of a period twice as long the Treaties of 1815 were still the public law of Europe.
The grave had peacefully closed over Napoleon; the revolutionary forces of France had
given no sign of returning life. As the Bourbon monarchy struck root, and the elements
of opposition grew daily weaker in France, the perils that lately filled all minds
appeared to grow obsolete, and the very Power against which the anti-revolutionary
treaties of 1815 had been directed took its place, as of natural right, by the side of
Austria and Russia in the struggle against revolution. The attack of Louis XVIII. upon
the Spanish Constitutionalists marked the complete reconciliation of France with the
Continental dynasties which had combined against it in 1815; and from this time the
Treaties of Chaumont and Aix-la-Chapelle, though their provisions might be still
unchallenged, ceased to represent the actual relations existing between the Powers.
There was no longer a moral union of the Courts against a supposed French
revolutionary State; on the contrary, when Eastern affairs reached their crisis, Russia
detached itself from its Hapsburg ally, and definitely allied itself with France. If after
In the person of Charles X. reaction and clericalism had ascended the French throne.
The minister, Villèle, who had won power in 1820 as the representative of the
Ultra-Royalists, had indeed learnt wisdom while in office, and down to the death of
Louis XVIII. in 1824 he had kept in check the more violent section of his party. But he
now retained his post only at the price of compliance with the Court, and gave the
authority of his name to measures which his own judgment condemned. It was
characteristic of Charles X. and of the reactionaries around him that out of trifling
matters they provoked more exasperation than a prudent Government would have
aroused by changes of infinitely greater importance. Thus in a sacrilege-law which was
introduced in 1825 they disgusted all reasonable men by attempting to revive the
barbarous mediæval punishment of amputation of the hand; and in a measure
conferring some fractional rights upon the eldest son in cases of intestacy they alarmed
the whole nation by a preamble declaring the French principle of the equal division of
inheritances to be incompatible with monarchy. Coming from a Government which had
thus already forfeited public confidence, a law granting the emigrants a compensation
of £40,000,000 for their estates which had been confiscated during the Revolution
excited the strongest opposition, although, apart from questions of equity, it benefited
the nation by for ever setting at rest all doubt as to the title of the purchasers of the
confiscated lands. The financial operations by which, in order to provide the vast sum
allotted to the emigrants, the national debt was converted from a five per cent, to a
three per cent, stock, alienated all stockholders and especially the powerful bankers of
Paris. But more than any single legislative act, the alliance of the Government with the
priestly order, and the encouragement given by it to monastic corporations, whose
existence in France was contrary to law, offended the nation. The Jesuits were indicted
before the law-courts by Montlosier, himself a Royalist and a member of the old
noblesse. A vehement controversy sprang up between the ecclesiastics and their
opponents, in which the Court was not spared. The Government, which had lately
repealed the law of censorship, now restored it by edict. The climax of its unpopularity
was reached; its hold upon the Chamber was gone, and the very measure by which
Villèle, when at the height of his power, had endeavoured to give permanence to his
administration, proved its ruin. He had abolished the system of partial renovation, by
which one-fifth of the Chamber of Deputies was annually returned, and substituted for
it the English system of septennial Parliaments with general elections. In 1827 King
Charles, believing his Ministers to be stronger in the country than in the Chamber,
exercised his prerogative of dissolution. The result was the total defeat of the
Government, and the return of an assembly in which the Liberal opposition
outnumbered the partisans of the Court by three to one. Villèle's Ministry now
resigned. King Charles, unwilling to choose his successor from the Parliamentary
majority, thought for a moment of violent resistance, but subsequently adopted other
counsels, and, without sincerely intending to bow to the national will, called to office
the Vicomte de Martignac, a member of the right centre, and the representative of a
policy of conciliation and moderate reform (January 2, 1828).
It was not the fault of this Minister that the last chance of union between the French
nation and the elder Bourbon line was thrown away. Martignac brought forward a
measure of decentralisation conferring upon the local authorities powers which, though
limited, were larger than they had possessed at any time since the foundation of the
Consulate; and he appealed to the Liberal sections of the Chamber to assist him in
winning an instalment of self-government which France might well have accepted with
satisfaction. But the spirit of opposition within the Assembly was too strong for a
coalition of moderate men, and the Liberals made the success of Martignac's plan
impossible by insisting on concessions which the Minister was unable to grant. The
reactionists were ready to combine with their opponents. King Charles himself was in
secret antagonism to his Minister, and watched with malicious joy his failure to control
the majority in the Chamber. Instead of throwing all his influence on to the side of
Martignac, and rallying all doubtful forces by the pronounced support of the Crown, he
welcomed Martignac's defeat as a proof of the uselessness of all concessions, and
dismissed the Minister from office, declaring that the course of events had fulfilled his
own belief in the impossibility of governing in accord with a Parliament. The names of
the Ministers who were now called to power excited anxiety and alarm not only in
France but throughout the political circles of Europe. They were the names of men
known as the most violent and embittered partisans of reaction; men whose presence in
the councils of the King could mean nothing but a direct attack upon the existing
Parliamentary system of France. At the head was Jules Polignac, then French
ambassador at London, a man half-crazed with religious delusions, who had suffered a
long imprisonment for his share in Cadoudal's attempt to kill Napoleon, and on his
return to France in 1814 had refused to swear to the Charta because it granted religious
freedom to non-Catholics. Among the subordinate members of the Ministry were
General Bourmont, who had deserted to the English at Waterloo, and La Bourdonnaye,
the champion of the reactionary Terrorists in 1816. [385]
The Ministry having been appointed immediately after the close of the session of 1829,
an interval of several months passed before they were brought face to face with the
Chambers. During this interval the prospect of a conflict with the Crown became
familiar to the public mind, though no general impression existed that an actual change
of dynasty was close at hand. The Bonapartists were without a leader, Napoleon's son,
their natural head, being in the power of the Austrian Court; the Republicans were
neither numerous nor well organised, and the fatal memories of 1793 still weighed
Early in March, 1830, the French Chambers assembled after their recess. The speech of
King Charles at the opening of the session was resolute and even threatening. It was
answered by an address from the Lower House, requesting him to dismiss his
Ministers. The deputation which presented this address was received by the King in a
[Polignac's project.]
While the dissolution of Parliament was impending, Polignac laid before the King a
memorial expressing his own views on the courses open to Government in case of the
elections proving adverse. The Charta contained a clause which, in loose and ill-chosen
language, declared it to be the function of the King "to make the regulations and
ordinances necessary for the execution of the laws and for the security of the State."
These words, which no doubt referred to the exercise of the King's normal and
constitutional powers, were interpreted by Polignac as authorising the King to suspend
the Constitution itself, if the Representative Assembly should be at variance with the
King's Ministers. Polignac in fact entertained the same view of the relation between
executive and deliberative bodies as those Jacobin directors who made the coup-d'état
of Fructidor, 1797; and the measures which he ultimately adopted were, though in a
softened form, those adopted by Barras and Laréveillère after the Royalist elections in
the sixth year of the Republic. To suspend the Constitution was not, he suggested, to
violate the Charta, for the Charta empowered the sovereign to issue the ordinances
necessary for the security of the State; and who but the sovereign and his advisers
could be the judges of this necessity? This was simple enough; there was nevertheless
among Polignac's colleagues some doubt both as to the wisdom and as to the legality of
his plans. King Charles who, with all his bigotry, was anxious not to violate the letter
of the Charta, brooded long over the clause which defined the sovereign's powers. At
length he persuaded himself that his Minister's interpretation was the correct one,
accepted the resignation of the dissentients within the Cabinet, and gave his sanction to
the course which Polignac recommended. [386]
[Elections of 1830.]
The result of the general election, which took place in June, surpassed all the hopes of
the Opposition and all the fears of the Court. The entire body of Deputies which had
voted the obnoxious address to the Crown in March was returned, and the partisans of
Government lost in addition fifty seats. The Cabinet, which had not up to this time
resolved upon the details of its action, now deliberated upon several projects submitted
to it, and, after rejecting all plans that might have led to a compromise, determined to
declare the elections null and void, to silence the press, and to supersede the existing
electoral system by one that should secure the mastery of the Government both at the
polling-booths and in the Chamber itself. All this was to be done by Royal Edict, and
before the meeting of the new Parliament. The date fixed for the opening of the
suspension of the newspapers, closed their establishments on the morning of July 27,
and turned their workmen into the streets.
[July 27.]
[July 28.]
Thus on the day after the appearance of the Edicts the aspect of Paris changed. Crowds
gathered, and revolutionary cries were raised. Marmont, who was suddenly ordered to
take command of the troops, placed them around the Tuileries, and captured two
barricades which were erected in the neighbourhood; but the populace was not yet
armed, and no serious conflict took place. In the evening Lafayette reached Paris, and
the revolution had now a real, though not an avowed, leader. A body of his adherents
met during the night at the office of the National, and, in spite of Thiers' resistance,
decided upon a general insurrection. Thiers himself, who desired nothing but a legal
and Parliamentary attack upon Charles X., quitted Paris to await events. The men who
had out-voted him placed themselves in communication with all the district committees
of Paris, and began the actual work of revolt by distributing arms. On the morning of
Wednesday, July 28th, the first armed bands attacked and captured the arsenals and
several private depots of weapons and ammunition. Barricades were erected
everywhere. The insurgents swelled from hundreds to thousands, and, converging on
the old rallying-point of the Commune of Paris, they seized the Hôtel de Ville, and
hoisted the tricolor flag on its roof. Marmont wrote to the King, declaring the position
to be most serious, and advising concession; he then put his troops in motion, and
succeeded, after a severe conflict, in capturing several points of vantage, and in
expelling the rebels from the Hôtel de Ville.
[July 29.]
In the meantime the Deputies, who were assembled at the house of one of their number
in pursuance of an agreement made on the previous day, gained sufficient courage to
adopt a protest declaring that in spite of the Ordinances they were still the legal
representatives of the nation. They moreover sent a deputation to Marmont, begging
him to put a stop to the fighting, and offering their assistance in restoring order if the
King would withdraw his Edicts. Marmont replied that he could do nothing without the
King's command, but he despatched a second letter to St. Cloud, urging compliance.
The only answer which he received was a command to concentrate his troops and to act
in masses. The result of this was that the positions which had been won by hard
fighting were abandoned before evening, and that the troops, famished and exhausted,
were marched back through the streets of Paris to the Tuileries. On the march some
fraternised with the people, others were surrounded and disarmed. All eastern Paris
now fell into the hands of the insurgents; the middle-class, as in 1789 and 1792,
remained inactive, and allowed the contest to be decided by the populace and the
soldiery. Messages from the capital constantly reached St. Cloud, but the King so little
understood his danger and so confidently reckoned on the victory of the troops in the
Tuileries that he played whist as usual during the evening; and when the Duc de
Mortemart, French Ambassador at St. Petersburg, arrived at nightfall, and pressed for
an audience, the King refused to receive him until the next morning. When morning
came, the march of the insurgents against the Tuileries began. Position after position
fell into their hands. The regiments stationed in the Place Vendôme abandoned their
commander, and marched off to place themselves at the disposal of the Deputies.
The Duke of Orleans was all this time in hiding. He had been warned that the Court
intended to arrest him, and, whether from fear of the Court or of the populace, he had
secreted himself at a hunting-lodge in his woods, allowing none but his wife and his
sister to know where he was concealed. His partisans, of whom the rich and popular
banker, Laffitte, was the most influential among the Deputies, were watching for an
opportunity to bring forward his name; but their chances of success seemed slight. The
Deputies at large wished only for the withdrawal of the Ordinances, and were wholly
averse from a change of dynasty. It was only through the obstinacy of King Charles
himself, and as the result of a series of accidents, that the Crown passed from the elder
Bourbon line. King Charles would not hear of withdrawing the Ordinances until the
Tuileries had actually fallen; he then gave way and charged the Duc de Mortemart to
form a new Ministry, drawn from the ranks of the Opposition. But instead of formally
repealing the Edicts by a public Decree, he sent two messengers to Paris to
communicate his change of purpose to the Deputies by word of mouth. The messengers
betook themselves to the Hôtel de Ville, where a municipal committee under Lafayette
had been installed; and, when they could produce no written authority for their
statements, they were referred by this committee to the general body of Deputies,
which was now sitting at Laffitte's house. The Deputies also demanded a written
guarantee. Laffitte and Thiers spoke in favour of the Duke of Orleans, but the
Assembly at large was still willing to negotiate with Charles X., and only required the
presence of the Duc de Mortemart himself, and a copy of the Decree repealing the
Ordinances.
[July 30.]
It was now near midnight. The messengers returned to St. Cloud, and were not
permitted to deliver their intelligence until the King awoke next morning. Charles then
signed the necessary document, and Mortemart set out for Paris; but the night's delay
had given the Orleanists time to act, and before the King was up Thiers had placarded
the streets of Paris with a proclamation extolling Orleans as the prince devoted to the
cause of the Revolution, as the soldier of Jemappes, and the only constitutional King
now possible. Some hours after this manifesto had appeared the Deputies again
assembled at Laffitte's house, and waited for the appearance of Mortemart. But they
waited in vain. Mortemart's carriage was stopped on the road from St. Cloud, and he
was compelled to make his way on foot by a long circuit and across a score of
barricades. When he approached Laffitte's house, half dead with heat and fatigue, he
found that the Deputies had adjourned to the Palais Bourbon, and, instead of following
them, he ended his journey at the Luxemburg, where the Peers were assembled. His
absence was turned to good account by the Orleanists. At the morning session the
proposition was openly made to call Louis Philippe to power; and when the Deputies
reassembled in the afternoon and the Minister still failed to present himself, it was
resolved to send a body of Peers and Deputies to Louis Philippe to invite him to come
to Paris and to assume the office of Lieutenant-General of the kingdom. No opposition
But there existed another authority in Paris beside the Assembly of Representatives,
and one that was not altogether disposed to permit Louis Philippe and his satellites to
reap the fruits of the people's victory. Lafayette and the Municipal Committee, which
occupied the Hôtel de Ville, had transformed themselves into a provisional
government, and sat surrounded by the armed mob which had captured the Tuileries
two days before. No single person who had fought in the streets had risked his life for
the sake of making Louis Philippe king; in so far as the Parisians had fought for any
definite political idea, they had fought for the Republic. It was necessary to reconcile
both the populace and the provisional government to the assumption of power by the
new Regent; and with this object Louis Philippe himself proceeded to the Hôtel de
Ville, accompanied by an escort of Deputies and Peers. It was a hazardous moment
when he entered the crowd on the Place de Grève; but Louis Philippe's readiness of
speech stood him in good stead, and he made his way unhurt through the throng into
the building, where Lafayette received him. Compliments and promises were showered
upon this veteran of 1789, who presently appeared on a balcony and embraced Louis
Philippe, while the Prince grasped the tricolor flag, the flag which had not waved in
Paris since 1815. The spectacle was successful. The multitude shouted applause; and
the few determined men who still doubted the sincerity of a Bourbon and demanded the
proclamation of the Republic were put off with the promise of an ultimate appeal to the
French people.
[Charles X.]
The first public notice of the abdication of King Charles was given by Louis Philippe in
the Chamber of Deputies, which was convoked by him, as Lieutenant-General of the
Kingdom, on the 3rd of August. In addressing the Deputies, Louis Philippe stated that
he had received a letter containing the abdication both of the King and of the Dauphin,
but he uttered no single word regarding the Duc de Bordeaux, in whose favour both his
grandfather and his uncle had renounced their rights. Had Louis Philippe mentioned
that the abdications were in fact conditional, and had he declared himself protector of
the Duc de Bordeaux during his minority, there is little doubt that the legitimate heir
would have been peaceably accepted both by the Chamber and by Paris. Louis Philippe
himself had up to this time done nothing that was inconsistent with the assumption of a
mere Regency; the Chamber had not desired a change of dynasty; and, with the
exception of Lafayette, the men who had actually made the Revolution bore as little
goodwill to an Orleanist as to a Bourbon monarchy. But from the time when Louis
Philippe passed over in silence the claims of the grandson of Charles X., his own
accession to the throne became inevitable. It was left to an obscure Deputy to propose
that the crown should be offered to Louis Philippe, accompanied by certain conditions
couched in the form of modifications of the Charta. The proposal was carried in the
Chamber on the 7th of August, and the whole body of representatives marched to the
Palais Royale to acquaint the prince with its resolution. Louis Philippe, after some
conventional expressions of regret, declared that he could not resist the call of his
country. When the Lower Chamber had thus disposed of the crown, the House of Peers,
which had proved itself a nullity throughout the crisis, adopted the same resolution, and
tendered its congratulations in a similar fashion. Two days later Louis Philippe took the
oath to the Charta as modified by the Assembly, and was proclaimed King of the
French.
Thus ended a revolution, which, though greeted with enthusiasm at the time, has lost
much of its splendour and importance in the later judgment of mankind. In comparison
with the Revolution of 1789, the movement which overthrew the Bourbons in 1830
was a mere flutter on the surface. It was unconnected with any great change in men's
ideas, and it left no great social or legislative changes behind it. Occasioned by a
breach of the constitution on the part of the Executive Government, it resulted mainly
in the transfer of administrative power from one set of politicians to another: the
alterations which it introduced into the constitution itself were of no great importance.
[Affairs in Belgium.]
The State first affected by the events of July was the kingdom of the Netherlands. The
creation of this kingdom, in which the Belgian provinces formerly subject to Austria
were united with Holland to serve as an effective barrier against French aggression on
the north, had been one of Pitt's most cherished schemes, and it had been carried into
effect ten years after his death by the Congress of Vienna. National and religious
incongruities had been little considered by the statesmen of that day, and at the very
moment of union the Catholic bishops of Belgium had protested against a constitution
which gave equal toleration to all religions under the rule of a Protestant King. The
Belgians had been uninterruptedly united with France for the twenty years preceding
For some months before the Revolution of July, 1830, the antagonism between the
Belgians and their Government had been so violent that no great shock from outside
was necessary to produce an outbreak. The convulsions of Paris were at once felt at
Brussels, and on the 25th of August the performance of a revolutionary opera in that
city gave the signal for the commencement of insurrection. From the capital the
rebellion spread from town to town throughout the southern Netherlands. The King
summoned the Estates General, and agreed to the establishment of an administration
for Belgium separate from that of Holland: but the storm was not allayed; and the
appearance of a body of Dutch troops at Brussels was sufficient to dispel the
expectation of a peaceful settlement. Barricades were erected; a conflict took place in
the streets; and the troops, unable to carry the city by assault, retired to the outskirts
and kept up a desultory attack for several days. They then withdrew, and a provisional
government, which was immediately established, declared the independence of
Belgium. For a moment there appeared some possibility that the Crown Prince of
Holland, who had from the first assumed the part of mediator, might be accepted as
sovereign of the newly-formed State; but the growing violence of the insurrection, the
activity of French emissaries and volunteers, and the bombardment of Antwerp by the
Dutch soldiers who garrisoned its citadel, made an end of all such hopes. Belgium had
won its independence, and its connection with the House of Orange could be
re-established only by force of arms.
Thus far, a crisis which threatened the peace of Europe had been surmounted with
unexpected ease. But the first stage of the difficulty alone was passed; it still remained
for the Powers to provide a king for Belgium, and to gain the consent of the Dutch and
The difficulty of arranging the Belgian frontier arose principally from the position of
the Grand Duchy of Luxemburg. This territory, though subject to Austria before the
French Revolution, had always been treated as distinct from the body of the Austrian
Netherlands. When, at the peace of 1814, it was given to the King of Holland in
substitution for the ancient possessions of his family at Nassau, its old character as a
member of the German federal union was restored to it, so that the King of Holland in
respect of this portion of his dominions became a German prince, and the fortress of
Luxemburg, the strongest in Europe after Gibraltar, was liable to occupation by
German troops. The population of the Duchy had, however, joined the Belgians in their
revolt, and, with the exception of the fortress itself, the territory had passed into
possession of the Belgian Government. In spite of this actual overthrow of Dutch rule,
the Conference of London had attached such preponderating importance to the military
and international relations of Luxemburg that it had excluded the whole of the Duchy
from the new Belgian State, and declared it still to form part of the dominions of the
King of Holland. The first demand of Leopold was for the reversal or modification of
this decision, and the Powers so far gave way as to substitute for the declaration of
January a series of articles, in which the question of Luxemburg was reserved for future
settlement. The King of Holland had assented to the January declaration; on hearing of
its abandonment, he took up arms, and threw fifty thousand men into Belgium. Leopold
appealed to France for assistance, and a French army immediately crossed the frontier.
The Dutch now withdrew, and the French in their turn were recalled, after Leopold had
signed a treaty undertaking to raze the fortifications of five towns on his southern
border. The Conference again took up its work, and produced a third scheme, in which
the territory of Luxemburg was divided between Holland and Belgium. This was
accepted by Belgium, and rejected by Holland. The consequence was that a treaty was
made between Leopold and the Powers; and at the beginning of 1832 the kingdom of
Belgium, as defined by the third award of the Conference, was recognised by all the
Courts, Lord Palmerston on behalf of England resolutely refusing to France even the
slightest addition of territory, on the ground that, if annexations once began, all security
for the continuance of peace would be at an end. On this wise and firm policy the
[Affairs of Poland.]
The consent of the Eastern Powers to the overthrow of the kingdom of the United
Netherlands, and to the establishment of a State based upon a revolutionary movement,
would probably have been harder to gain if in the autumn of 1830 Russia had been free
to act with all its strength. But at this moment an outbreak took place in Poland, which
required the concentration of all the Czar's forces within his own border. The conflict
was rather a war of one armed nation against another than the insurrection of a people
against its government. Poland-that is to say, the territory which had formerly
constituted the Grand Duchy of Warsaw-had, by the treaties of 1814, been established
as a separate kingdom, subject to the Czar of Russia, but not forming part of the
Russian Empire. It possessed an administration and an army of its own, and the
meetings of its Diet gave to it a species of parliamentary government to which there
was nothing analogous within Russia proper. During the reign of Alexander the
constitutional system of Poland had, on the whole, been respected; and although the
real supremacy of an absolute monarch at St. Petersburg had caused the Diet to act as a
body in opposition to the Russian Government, the personal connection existing
between Alexander and the Poles had prevented any overt rebellion during his own
life-time. But with the accession of Nicholas all such individual sympathy passed
away, and the hard realities of the actual relation between Poland and the Court of
Russia came into full view. In the conspiracies of 1825 a great number of Poles were
implicated. Eight of these persons, after a preliminary inquiry, were placed on trial
before the Senate at Warsaw, which, in spite of strong evidence of their guilt, acquitted
them. Pending the decision, Nicholas declined to convoke the Diet: he also stationed
Russian troops in Poland, and violated the constitution by placing Russians in all
branches of the administration. Even without these grievances the hostility of the mass
of the Polish noblesse to Russia would probably have led sooner or later to
insurrection. The peasantry, ignorant and degraded, were but instruments in the hands
of their territorial masters. In so far as Poland had rights of self-government, these
rights belonged almost exclusively to the nobles, or landed proprietors, a class so
numerous that they have usually been mistaken in Western Europe for the Polish nation
itself. The so-called emancipation of the serfs, effected by Napoleon after wresting the
Grand Duchy of Warsaw from Prussia in 1807, had done little for the mass of the
population; for, while abolishing the legal condition of servitude, Napoleon had given
the peasant no vestige of proprietorship in his holding, and had consequently left him
as much at the mercy of his landlord as he was before. The name of freedom appears in
fact to have worked actual injury to the peasant; for in the enjoyment of a pretended
power of free contract he was left without that protection of the officers of State which,
A sharp distinction existed between the narrow circle of the highest aristocracy of
Poland and the mass of the poor and warlike noblesse. The former, represented by men
like Czartoryski, the friend of Alexander I. and ex-Minister of Russia, understood the
hopelessness of any immediate struggle with the superior power, and advocated the
politic development of such national institutions as were given to Poland by the
constitution of 1815, institutions which were certainly sufficient to preserve Poland
from absorption by Russia, and to keep alive the idea of the ultimate establishment of
its independence. It was among the lesser nobility, among the subordinate officers of
the army and the population of Warsaw itself, who jointly formed the so-called
democratic party, that the spirit of revolt was strongest. Plans for an outbreak had been
made during the Turkish war of 1828; but unhappily this opportunity, which might
have been used with fatal effect against Russia, was neglected, and it was left for the
French Revolution of 1830 to kindle an untimely and ineffective flame. The memory of
Napoleon's campaigns and the wild voices of French democracy filled the patriots at
Warsaw with vain hopes of a military union with western Liberalism, and overpowered
the counsels of men who understood the state of Europe better. Revolt broke out on the
29th of November, 1830. The Polish regiments in Warsaw joined the insurrection, and
the Russian troops, under the Grand Duke Constantine, withdrew from the capital,
where their leader had narrowly escaped with his life. [390]
The Government of Poland had up to this time been in the hands of a Council
nominated by the Czar as King of Poland, and controlled by instructions from a
secretary at St. Petersburg. The chief of the Council was Lubecki, a Pole devoted to the
Emperor Nicholas. On the victory of the insurrection at Warsaw, the Council was
dissolved and a provisional Government installed. Though the revolt was the work of
the so-called democratic party, the influence of the old governing families of the
highest aristocracy was still so great that power was by common consent placed in their
hands. Czartoryski became president, and the policy adopted by himself and his
colleagues was that of friendly negotiation with Russia. The insurrection of November
was treated not as the beginning of a national revolt, but as a mere disturbance
occasioned by unconstitutional acts of the Government. So little did the committee
understand the character of the Emperor Nicholas, as to imagine that after the
expulsion of his soldiers and the overthrow of his Ministers at Warsaw he would
peaceably make the concessions required of him, and undertake for the future faithfully
to observe the Polish constitution. Lubecki and a second official were sent to St.
Petersburg to present these demands, and further (though this was not seriously
intended) to ask that the constitution should be introduced into all the Russian
provinces which had once formed part of the Polish State. The reception given to the
Six weeks of precious time were lost through the illusion of the Polish Government that
an accommodation with the Emperor Nicholas was possible. Had the insurrection at
Warsaw been instantly followed by a general levy and the invasion of Lithuania, the
resources of this large province might possibly have been thrown into the scale against
Russia. Though the mass of the Lithuanian population, in spite or several centuries of
union with Poland, had never been assimilated to the dominant race, and remained in
language and creed more nearly allied to the Russians than the Poles, the nobles formed
an integral part of the Polish nation, and possessed sufficient power over their serfs to
drive them into the field to fight for they knew not what. The Russian garrisons in
Lithuania were not strong, and might easily have been overpowered by a sudden attack.
When once the population of Warsaw had risen in arms against Nicholas, the only
possibility of success lay in the extension of the revolt over the whole of the
semi-Polish provinces, and in a general call to arms. But beside other considerations
which disinclined the higher aristocracy at Warsaw to extreme measures, they were
influenced by a belief that the Powers of Europe might intervene on behalf of the
constitution of the Polish kingdom as established by the treaty of Vienna; while, if the
struggle passed beyond the borders of that kingdom, it would become a revolutionary
movement to which no Court could lend its support. It was not until the envoy returned
from St. Petersburg bearing the answer of the Emperor Nicholas that the democratic
party carried all before it, and all hopes of a peaceful compromise vanished away. The
Diet then passed a resolution declaring that the House of Romanoff had forfeited the
Polish crown, and preparations began for a struggle for life or death with Russia. But
the first moments when Russia stood unguarded and unready had been lost beyond
recall. Troops had thronged westwards into Lithuania; the garrisons in the fortresses
had been raised to their full strength; and in February, 1831, Diebitsch took up the
offensive, and crossed the Polish frontier with a hundred and twenty thousand men.
The Polish army, though far inferior in numbers to the enemy which it had to meet, was
no contemptible foe. Among its officers there were many who had served in
Napoleon's campaigns; it possessed, however, no general habituated to independent
command; and the spirit of insubordination and self-will, which had wrought so much
ruin in Poland, was still ready to break out when defeat had impaired the authority of
the nominal chiefs. In the first encounters the advancing Russian army was gallantly
met; and, although the Poles were forced to fall back upon Warsaw, the losses
During the conflict on the banks of the Vistula, the attitude of the Austrian Government
had been one of watchful neutrality. Its own Polish territory was not seriously menaced
with disturbance, for in a great part of Galicia the population, being of Ruthenian stock
and belonging to the Greek Church, had nothing in common with the Polish and
Catholic noblesse of their province, and looked back upon the days of Polish dominion
as a time of suffering and wrong. Austria's danger in any period of European
convulsion lay as yet rather on the side of Italy than on the East, and the vigour of its
policy in that quarter contrasted with the equanimity with which it watched the struggle
of its Slavic neighbours. Since the suppression of the Neapolitan constitutional
movement in 1821, the Carbonari and other secret societies of Italy had lost nothing of
their activity. Their head-quarters had been removed from Southern Italy to the Papal
States, and the numerous Italian exiles in France and elsewhere kept up a busy
communication at once with French revolutionary leaders like Lafayette and with the
enemies of the established governments in Italy itself. The death of Pope Pius VIII., on
November 30, 1830, and the consequent paralysis of authority within the Ecclesiastical
States, came at an opportune moment; assurances of support arrived from Paris; and the
[Attitude of France.]
The principle which, since the Revolution of July, the government of France had
repeatedly laid down as the future basis of European politics was that of
non-intervention. It had disclaimed any purpose of interfering with the affairs of its
neighbours, and had required in return that no foreign intervention should take place in
districts which, like Belgium and Savoy, adjoined its own frontier. But there existed no
real unity of purpose in the councils of Louis Philippe. The Ministry had one voice for
the representatives of foreign powers, another for the Chamber of Deputies, and
another for Lafayette and the bands of exiles and conspirators who were under his
protection. The head of the government at the beginning of 1831 was Laffitte, a weak
politician, dominated by revolutionary sympathies and phrases, but incapable of any
sustained or resolute action, and equally incapable of resisting Louis Philippe after the
King had concluded his performance of popular leader, and assumed his real character
as the wary and self-seeking chief of a reigning house. Whether the actual course of
French policy would be governed by the passions of the streets or by the timorousness
of Louis Philippe was from day to day a matter of conjecture. The official answer given
to the inquiries of the Austrian ambassador as to the intentions of France in case of an
Austrian intervention in Italy was, that such intervention might be tolerated in Parma
and Modena, which belonged to sovereigns immediately connected with the
Hapsburgs, but that if it was extended to the Papal States war with France would be
probable, and if extended to Piedmont, certain. On this reply Metternich, who saw
Austria's own dominion in Italy once more menaced by the success of an
insurrectionary movement, had to form his decision. He could count on the support of
Russia in case of war; he knew well the fears of Louis Philippe, and knew that he could
work on these fears both by pointing to the presence of the young Louis Bonaparte and
his brother with the Italian insurgents as evidence of the Bonapartist character of the
movement, and by hinting that in the last resort he might himself let loose upon France
Napoleon's son, the Duke of Reichstadt. now growing to manhood at Vienna, before
whom Louis Philippe's throne would have collapsed as speedily as that of Louis XVIII.
in 1814. Where weakness existed, Metternich was quick to divine it and to take
advantage of it. He rightly gauged Louis Philippe. Taking at their true value the threats
of the French Government, he declared that it was better for Austria to fall, if
necessary, by war than by revolution; and, resolving at all hazards to suppress the
Roman insurrection, he gave orders to the Austrian troops to enter the Papal States.
The military resistance which the insurgents could offer to the advance of the Pope's
Austrian deliverers was insignificant, and order was soon restored. But all Europe
expected the outbreak of war between Austria and France. The French ambassador at
Constantinople had gone so far as to offer the Sultan an offensive and defensive
alliance, and to urge him to make preparations for an attack upon both Austria and
Russia on their southern frontiers. A despatch from the ambassador reached Paris
describing the warlike overtures he had made to the Porte. Louis Philippe saw that if
this despatch reached the hands of Laffitte and the war party in the Council of
Ministers the preservation of peace would be almost impossible. In concert with
Sebastiani, the Foreign Minister, he concealed the despatch from Laffitte. The Premier
discovered the trick that had been played upon him, and tendered his resignation. It was
gladly accepted by Louis Philippe. Laffitte quitted office, begging pardon of God and
man for the part that he had taken in raising Louis Philippe to the throne. His successor
was Casimir Perier, a man of very different mould; resolute, clear-headed, and
immovably true to his word; a constitutional statesman of the strictest type, intolerant
of any species of disorder, and a despiser of popular movements, but equally proof
against royal intrigues, and as keen to maintain the constitutional system of France
against the Court on one side and the populace on the other as he was to earn for
France the respect of foreign powers by the abandonment of a policy of adventure, and
the steady adherence to the principles of international obligation which he had laid
down. Under his firm hand the intrigues of the French Government with foreign
revolutionists ceased; it was felt throughout Europe that peace was still possible, and
that if war was undertaken by France it would be undertaken only under conditions
which would make any moral union of all the great Powers against France impossible.
The Austrian expedition into the Papal States had already begun, and the revolutionary
Government had been suppressed; the most therefore that Casimir Perier could demand
was that the evacuation of the occupied territory should take place as soon as possible,
and that Austria should add its voice to that of the other Powers in urging the Papal
Government to reform its abuses. Both demands were granted. For the first time
Austria appeared as the advocate of something like a constitutional system. A
Conference held at Rome agreed upon a scheme of reforms to be recommended to the
Pope; the prospects of peace grew daily fairer; and in July, 1831, the last Austrian
soldiers quitted the Ecclesiastical States. [393]
It now remained to be seen whether Pope Gregory and his cardinals had the
intelligence and good-will necessary for carrying out the reforms on the promise of
which France had abstained from active intervention. If any such hopes existed they
were doomed to speedy disappointment. The apparatus of priestly maladministration
was restored in all its ancient deformity. An amnesty which had been promised by the
Legate Benvenuti was disregarded, and the Pope set himself to strengthen his authority
by enlisting new bands of ruffians and adventurers under the standard of St. Peter.
Again insurrection broke out, and again at the Pope's request the Austrians crossed the
frontier (January, 1832). Though their appearance was fatal to the cause of liberty, they
were actually welcomed as protectors in towns which had been exposed to the tender
mercies of the Papal condottieri. There was no disorder, no severity, where the
[Prussia in 1830.]
The arena in which we have next to follow the effects of the July Revolution, in action
and counter-action, is Germany. It has been seen that in the southern German States an
element of representative government, if weak, yet not wholly ineffective, had come
into being soon after 1815, and had survived the reactionary measures initiated by the
conference of Ministers at Carlsbad. In Prussia the promises of King Frederick William
to his people had never been fulfilled. Years had passed since exaggerated rumours of
conspiracy had served as an excuse for withholding the Constitution. Hardenberg had
long been dead; the foreign policy of the country had taken a freer tone; the rigours of
the police-system had departed; but the nation remained as completely excluded from
any share in the government as it had been before Napoleon's fall. It had in fact become
clear that during the lifetime of King Frederick William things must be allowed to
remain in their existing condition; and the affection of the people for their sovereign,
who had been so long and so closely united with Prussia in its sufferings and in its
glories, caused a general willingness to postpone the demand for constitutional reform
until the succeeding reign. The substantial merits of the administration might moreover
have reconciled a less submissive people than the Prussians to the absolute government
under which they lived. Under a wise and enlightened financial policy the country was
becoming visibly richer. Obstacles to commercial development were removed,
communications opened; and finally, by a series of treaties with the neighbouring
German States, the foundations were laid for that Customs-Union which, under the
name of the Zollverein, ultimately embraced almost the whole of non-Austrian
Germany. As one Principality after another attached itself to the Prussian system, the
products of the various regions of Germany, hitherto blocked by the frontier dues of
each petty State, moved freely through the land, while the costs attending the taxation
of foreign imports, now concentrated upon the external line of frontier, were
enormously diminished. Patient, sagacious, and even liberal in its negotiations with its
weaker neighbours, Prussia silently connected with itself through the ties of financial
union States which had hitherto looked to Austria as their natural head. The semblance
of political union was carefully avoided, but the germs of political union were
nevertheless present in the growing community of material interests. The reputation of
the Prussian Government, no less than the welfare of the Prussian people, was
advanced by each successive step in the extension of the Zollverein; and although the
earlier stages alone had been passed in the years before 1830, enough had already been
done to affect public opinion; and the general sense of material progress combined with
other influences to close Prussia to the revolutionary tendencies of that year.
There were, however, other States in northern Germany which had all the defects of
Prussian autocracy without any of its redeeming qualities. In Brunswick and in Hesse
Cassel despotism existed in its most contemptible form; the violence of a half-crazy
youth in the one case, and the caprices of an obstinate dotard in the other, rendering
authority a mere nuisance to those who were subject to it. Here accordingly revolution
broke out. The threatened princes had made themselves too generally obnoxious or
ridiculous for any hand to be raised in their defence. Their disappearance excited no
more than the inevitable lament from Metternich; and in both States systems of
representative government were introduced by their successors. In Hanover and in
Saxony agitation also began in favour of Parliamentary rule. The disturbance that arose
was not of a serious character, and it was met by the Courts in a conciliatory spirit.
Constitutions were granted, the liberty of the Press extended, and trial by jury
established. On the whole, the movement of 1830, as it affected northern Germany, was
rationally directed and salutary in its results. Changes of real value were accomplished
with a sparing employment of revolutionary means, and, in the more important cases,
through the friendly co-operation of the sovereigns with their subjects. It was not the
fault of those who had asked for the same degree of liberty in northern Germany which
the south already possessed, that Germany at large again experienced the miseries of
reaction and repression which had afflicted it ten years before.
Like Belgium and the Rhenish Provinces, the Bavarian Palatinate had for twenty years
been incorporated with France. Its inhabitants had grown accustomed to the French law
and French institutions, and had caught something of the political animation which
returned to France after Napoleon's fall. Accordingly when the government of Munich,
alarmed by the July Revolution, showed an inclination towards repressive measures,
the Palatinate, severed from the rest of the Bavarian monarchy and in immediate
contact with France, became the focus of a revolutionary agitation. The Press had
already attained some activity and some influence in this province; and although the
leaders of the party of progress were still to a great extent Professors, they had so far
advanced upon the patriots of 1818 as to understand that the liberation of the German
people was not to be effected by the lecturers and the scholars of the Universities. The
design had been formed of enlisting all classes of the public on the side of reform, both
by the dissemination of political literature and by the establishment of societies not
limited, as in 1818, to academic circles, but embracing traders as well as soldiers and
professional men. Even the peasant was to be reached and instructed in his interests as
[Reaction in Germany.]
Until the fall of Warsaw, in September, 1831, the German governments, uncertain of
the course which events might take in Europe, had shown a certain willingness to meet
the complaints of their subjects, and had in especial relaxed the supervision exercised
over the press. The fall of Warsaw, which quieted so many alarms, and made the
Emperor Nicholas once more a power outside his own dominions, inaugurated a period
of reaction in Germany. The Diet began the campaign against democracy by
suppressing various liberal newspapers, and amongst them the principal journal of the
Palatinate. It was against this movement of regression that the agitation in the
Palatinate and elsewhere was now directed. A festival, or demonstration, was held at
the Castle of Hambach, near Zweibrücken, at which a body of enthusiasts called upon
the German people to unite against their oppressors, and some even urged an
immediate appeal to arms (May 27, 1832). Similar meetings, though on a smaller scale,
were held in other parts of Germany. Wild words abounded, and the connection of the
German revolutionists with that body of opponents of all established governments
which had its council-chamber at Paris and its head in Lafayette was openly avowed.
Weak and insignificant as the German demagogues were, their extravagance gave to
Metternich and to the Diet sufficient pretext for revising the reactionary measures of
1819. Once more the subordination of all representative bodies to the sovereign's
authority was laid down by the Diet as a binding principle for every German state. The
refusal of taxes by any legislature was declared to be an act of rebellion which would
be met by the armed intervention of the central Powers. All political meetings and
associations were forbidden; the Press was silenced; the introduction of German books
printed abroad was prohibited, and the Universities were again placed under the watch
of the police (July, 1832). [394]
If among the minor sovereigns of Germany there were some who, as in Baden,
sincerely desired the development of free institutions, the authority exercised by
Metternich and his adherents in reaction bore down all the resistance that these courts
could offer, and the hand of despotism fell everywhere heavily upon the party of
political progress. The majority of German Liberals, not yet prepared for recourse to
revolutionary measures, submitted to the pressure of the times, and disclaimed all
sympathy with illegal acts; a minority, recognising that nothing was now to be gained
by constitutional means, entered into conspiracies, and determined to liberate Germany
by force. One insignificant group, relying upon the armed co-operation of Polish bands
in France, and deceived by promises of support from some Würtemberg soldiers,
actually rose in insurrection at Frankfort. A guard-house was seized, and a few soldiers
In half the states of Europe there were now bodies of exasperated, uncompromising
men, who devoted their lives to plotting against governments, and who formed, in their
community of interest and purpose, a sort of obverse of the Holy Alliance, a federation
of kings' enemies, a league of principle and creed, in which liberty and human right
stood towards established rule as light to darkness. As the grasp of authority closed
everywhere more tightly upon its baffled foes, more and more of these men passed into
exile. Among them was the Genoese Mazzini, who, after suffering imprisonment in
1831, withdrew to Marseilles, and there, in combination with various secret societies,
planned an incursion into the Italian province of Savoy. It was at first intended that this
enterprise should be executed simultaneously with the German rising at Frankfort.
Delays, however, arose, and it was not until the beginning of the following year that the
little army, which numbered more Poles than Italians, was ready for its task. The
incursion was made from Geneva in February, 1834, and ended disastrously. [395]
Mazzini returned to Switzerland, where hundreds of exiles, secure under the shelter of
the Republic, devised schemes of attack upon the despots of Europe, and even rioted in
honour of freedom in the streets of the Swiss cities which protected them. The effect of
the revolutionary movement of the time in consolidating the alliance of the three
Eastern Powers, so rudely broken by the Greek War of Liberation, now came clearly
into view. The sovereigns of Russia and Austria had met at Münchengrätz in Bohemia
in the previous autumn, and, in concert with Prussia, had resolved upon common
principles of action if their intervention should be required against disturbers of order.
Notes were now addressed from every quarter to the Swiss Government, requiring the
expulsion of all persons concerned in enterprises against the peace of neighbouring
States. Some resistance to this demand was made by individual cantons; but the
extravagance of many of the refugees themselves alienated popular sympathy, and the
greater part of them were forced to quit Switzerland and to seek shelter in England or
in America. With the dispersion of the central band of exiles the open alliance which
had existed between the revolutionists of Europe gradually passed away. The
brotherhood of the kings had proved a stern reality, the brotherhood of the peoples a
delusive vision. Mazzini indeed, who up to this time had scarcely emerged from the
rabble of revolutionary leaders, was yet to prove how deeply the genius, the elevation,
the fervour of one man struggling against the powers of the world may influence the
history of his age; but the fire that purified the fine gold charred and consumed the
baser elements; and of those who had hoped the most after 1830, many now sank into
despair, or gave up their lives to mere restless agitation and intrigue.
[Insurrections, 1832-1834.]
It was in France that the revolutionary movement was longest maintained. During the
first year of Louis Philippe's rule the opposition to his government was inspired not so
much by Republicanism as by a wild and inconsiderate sympathy with the peoples who
were fighting for liberty elsewhere, and by a headstrong impulse to take up arms on
their behalf. The famous decree of the Convention in 1792, which promised the
assistance of France to every nation in revolt against its rulers, was in fact the true
expression of what was felt by a great part of the French nation in 1831; and in the eyes
of these enthusiasts it was the unpardonable offence of Louis Philippe against the
honour of France that he allowed Poland and Italy to succumb without drawing his
sword against their conquerors. That France would have had to fight the three Eastern
Powers combined, if it had allied itself with those in revolt against any one of the three,
passed for nothing among the clamorous minority in the Chamber and among the
orators of Paris. The pacific policy of Casimir Perier was misunderstood; it passed for
mere poltroonery, when in fact it was the only policy that could save France from a
recurrence of the calamities of 1815. There were other causes for the growing
unpopularity of the King and of his Ministers, but the first was their policy of peace. As
the attacks of his opponents became more and more bitter, the government of Casimir
Perier took more and more of a repressive character. Disappointment at the small
results produced in France itself by the Revolution of July worked powerfully in men's
minds. The forces that had been set in motion against Charles X. were not to be laid at
rest at the bidding of those who had profited by them, and a Republican party gradually
took definite shape and organisation. Tumult succeeded tumult. In the summer of 1832
the funeral of General Lamarque, a popular soldier, gave the signal for insurrection at
Paris. There was severe fighting in the streets; the National Guard, however, proved
true to the king, and shared with the army in the honours of its victory. Repressive
measures and an unbroken series of prosecutions against seditious writers followed this
first armed attack upon the established government. The bitterness of the Opposition,
the discontent of the working classes, far surpassed anything that had been known
under Charles X. The whole country was agitated by revolutionary societies and
revolutionary propaganda. Disputes between masters and workmen, which, in
consequence of the growth of French manufacturing industry, now became both
frequent and important, began to take a political colour. Polish and Italian exiles
connected their own designs with attacks to be made upon the French Government
from within; and at length, in April, 1834, after the passing of a law against
trades-unions, the working classes of Lyons, who were on strike against their
employers, were induced to rise in revolt. After several days' fighting the insurrection
The near coincidence in time between the French Revolution of 1830 and the passing
of the English Reform Bill is apt to suggest to those who look for the operation of wide
general causes in history that the English Reform movement should be viewed as a part
of the great current of political change which then traversed the continent of Europe.
But on a closer examination this view is scarcely borne out by facts, and the
coincidence of the two epochs of change appears to be little more than accidental. The
general unity that runs through the history of the more advanced continental states is
indeed stronger than appears to a superficial reader of history; but this correspondence
of tendency does not always embrace England; on the contrary, the conditions peculiar
to England usually preponderate over those common to England and other countries,
exhibiting at times more of contrast than of similarity, as in the case of the Napoleonic
epoch, when the causes which drew together the western half of the continent operated
powerfully to exclude our own country from the current influences of the time, and
made the England of 1815, in opinion, in religion, and in taste much more insular than
Alliances of opinion usually cover the pursuit on one or both sides of some definite
interest; and to this rule the alliance which appeared to be springing up between France
and England after the changes of 1830 was no exception. In the popular view, the bond
of union between the two States was a common attachment to principles of liberty; and
on the part of the Whig statesmen who now governed England this sympathy with free
constitutional systems abroad was certainly a powerful force: but other motives than
mere community of sentiment combined to draw the two Governments together, and in
the case of France these immediate interests greatly outweighed any abstract preference
for a constitutional ally. Louis Philippe had an avowed and obstinate enemy in the Czar
of Russia, who had been his predecessor's friend: the Court of Vienna tolerated
usurpers only where worse mischief would follow from attacking them; Prussia had no
motive for abandoning the connexions which it had maintained since 1815. As the
union between the three Eastern Courts grew closer in consequence of the outbreak of
revolution beyond the borders of France, a good understanding with Great Britain
became more and more obviously the right policy for Louis Philippe; on the other
hand, the friendship of France seemed likely to secure England from falling back into
that isolated position which it had occupied when the Holy Alliance laid down the law
to Europe, and averted the danger to which the Ottoman Empire, as well as the peace of
the world, had been exposed by the combination of French with Russian schemes of
aggrandizement. If Canning, left without an ally in Europe, had called the new world
into existence to redress the balance of the old, his Whig successors might well look
with some satisfaction on that shifting of the weights which had brought over one of
the Great Powers to the side of England, and anticipate, in the concert of the two great
Western States, the establishment of a permanent force in European politics which
should hold in check the reactionary influences of Vienna and St. Petersburg. To some
extent these views were realised. A general relation of friendliness was recognised as
subsisting between the Governments of Paris and London, and in certain European
complications their intervention was arranged in common. But even here the element of
mistrust was seldom absent; and while English Ministers jealously watched each action
of their neighbour, the French Government rarely allowed the ties of an informal
It was in the establishment of the kingdom of Belgium that the combined action of
France and England produced its first and most successful result. A second demand
was made upon the Governments of the two constitutional Powers by the conflicts
which agitated the Spanish Peninsula, and which were stimulated in the general
interests of absolutism by both the Austrian and the Russian Court. The intervention of
Canning in 1826 on behalf of the constitutional Regency of Portugal against the foreign
supporters of Don Miguel, the head of the clerical and reactionary party, had not
permanently restored peace to that country. Miguel indeed accepted the constitution,
and, after betrothing himself to the infant sovereign, Donna Maria, who was still with
her father Pedro, in Brazil, entered upon the Regency which his elder brother had
promised to him. But his actions soon disproved the professions of loyalty to the
constitution which he had made; and after dissolving the Cortes, and re-assembling the
mediæval Estates, he caused himself to be proclaimed King (June, 1828). A reign of
terror followed. The constitutionalists were completely crushed. Miguel's own brutal
violence gave an example to all the fanatics and ruffians who surrounded him; and after
an unsuccessful appeal to arms, those of the adherents of Donna Maria and the
constitution who escaped from imprisonment or execution took refuge in England or in
the Azore islands, where Miguel had not been able to establish his authority. Though
Miguel was not officially recognised as Sovereign by most of the foreign Courts, his
victory was everywhere seen with satisfaction by the partisans of absolutism; and in
Great Britain, where the Duke of Wellington was still in power, the precedent of
Canning's intervention was condemned, and a strict neutrality maintained. Not only
was all assistance refused to Donna Maria, but her adherents who had taken refuge in
England were prevented from making this country the basis of any operations against
the usurper.
Such was the situation of Portuguese affairs when the events of 1830 brought an
entirely new spirit into the foreign policy of both England and France. Miguel,
however, had no inclination to adapt his own policy to the change of circumstances; on
the contrary, he challenged the hostility of both governments by persisting in a series of
wanton attacks upon English and French subjects resident at Lisbon. Satisfaction was
demanded, and exacted by force. English and French squadrons successively appeared
in the Tagus. Lord Palmerston, now Foreign Secretary in the Ministry of Earl Grey,
was content with obtaining a pecuniary indemnity for his countrymen, accompanied by
a public apology from the Portuguese Government: the French admiral, finding some
difficulty in obtaining redress, carried off the best ships of Don Miguel's navy. [396] A
weightier blow was, however, soon to fall upon the usurper. His brother, the Emperor
Pedro, threatened with revolution in Brazil, resolved to return to Europe and to enforce
the rights of his daughter to the throne of Portugal. Pedro arrived in London in July,
1831, and was permitted by the Government to raise troops and to secure the services
of some of the best naval officers of this country. The gathering place of his forces was
Christina Regent during the continuance of his illness. Don Carlos, protesting against
the violation of his rights, had betaken himself to Portugal, where he made common
cause with Miguel. His adherents had no intention of submitting to the change of
succession. Their resentment was scarcely restrained during Ferdinand's life-time, and
when, in September, 1833, his long-expected death took place, and the child Isabella
was declared Queen under the Regency of her mother, open rebellion broke out, and
Carlos was proclaimed King in several of the northern provinces.
For the moment the forces of the Regency seemed to be far superior to those of the
insurgents, and Don Carlos failed to take advantage of the first outburst of enthusiasm
and to place himself at the head of his followers. He remained in Portugal, while
Christina, as had been expected, drew nearer to the Spanish Liberals, and ultimately
called to power a Liberal minister, Martinez de la Rosa, under whom a constitution was
given to Spain by Royal Statute (April 10, 1834). At the same time negotiations were
opened with Portugal and with the Western Powers, in the hope of forming an alliance
which should drive both Miguel and Carlos from the Peninsula. On the 22nd of April,
1834, a Quadruple Treaty was signed at London, in which the Spanish Government
undertook to send an army into Portugal against Miguel, the Court of Lisbon pledging
itself in return to use all the means in its power to expel Don Carlos from Portuguese
territory. England engaged to co-operate by means of its fleet. The assistance of
France, if it should be deemed necessary for the attainment of the objects of the Treaty,
was to be rendered in such manner as should be settled by common consent. In
pursuance of the policy of the Treaty, and even before the formal engagement was
signed, a Spanish division under General Rodil crossed the frontier and marched
against Miguel. The forces of the usurper were defeated. The appearance of the English
fleet and the publication of the Treaty of Quadruple Alliance rendered further
resistance hopeless, and on the 22nd of May Miguel made his submission, and in return
for a large pension renounced all rights to the crown, and undertook to quit the
Peninsula for ever. Don Carlos, refusing similar conditions, went on board an English
ship, and was conducted to London. [398]
With respect to Portugal, the Quadruple Alliance had completely attained its object;
and in so far as the Carlist cause was strengthened by the continuance of civil war in
the neighbouring country, this source of strength was no doubt withdrawn from it. But
in its effect upon Don Carlos himself the action of the Quadruple Alliance was worse
than useless. While fulfilling the letter of the Treaty, which stipulated for the expulsion
of the two pretenders from the Peninsula, the English Admiral had removed Carlos
from Portugal, where he was comparatively harmless, and had taken no effective
guarantee that he should not re-appear in Spain itself and enforce his claim by arms.
Carlos had not been made a prisoner of war; he had made no promises and incurred no
obligations; nor could the British Government, after his arrival in this country, keep
him in perpetual restraint. Quitting England after a short residence, he travelled in
disguise through France, crossed the Pyrenees, and appeared on the 10th of July, 1834,
In the country immediately below the western Pyrenees, the so-called Basque
Provinces, lay the chief strength of the Carlist rebellion. These provinces, which were
among the most thriving and industrious parts of Spain, might seem by their very
superiority an unlikely home for a movement which was directed against everything
favourable to liberty, tolerance, and progress in the Spanish kingdom. But the
identification of the Basques with the Carlist cause was due in fact to local, not to
general, causes; and in fighting to impose a bigoted despot upon the Spanish people,
they were in truth fighting to protect themselves from a closer incorporation with
Spain. Down to the year 1812, the Basque provinces had preserved more than half of
the essentials of independence. Owing to their position on the French frontier, the
Spanish monarchy, while destroying all local independence in the interior of Spain, had
uniformly treated the Basques with the same indulgence which the Government of
Great Britain has shown to the Channel Islands, and which the French monarchy,
though in a less degree, showed to the frontier province of Alsace in the seventeenth
and eighteenth centuries. The customs-frontier of the north of Spain was drawn to the
south of these districts. The inhabitants imported what they pleased from France
without paying any duties; while the heavy import-dues levied at the border of the
neighbouring Spanish provinces gave them the opportunity of carrying on an easy and
lucrative system of smuggling. The local administration remained to a great extent in
the hands of the people themselves; each village preserved its active corporate life; and
the effect of this survival of a vigorous local freedom was seen in the remarkable
contrast described by travellers between the aspect of the Basque districts and that of
Spain at large. The Fueros, or local rights, as the Basques considered them, were in
reality, when viewed as part of the order of the Spanish State, a series of exceptional
privileges; and it was inevitable that the framers of the Constitution of 1812, in their
attempt to create a modern administrative and political system doing justice to the
whole of the nation, should sweep away the distinctions which had hitherto marked off
one group of provinces from the rest of the community. The continuance of war until
the return of Ferdinand, and the overthrow of the Constitution, prevented the plans of
the Cortes from being at that time carried into effect; but the revolution of 1820
brought them into actual operation, and the Basques found themselves, as a result of
the victory of Liberal principles, compelled to pay duties on their imports, robbed of
the profits of their smuggling, and supplanted in the management of their local affairs
by an army of officials from Madrid. They had gained by the Constitution little that
they had not possessed before, and their losses were immediate, tangible, and
substantial. The result was, that although the larger towns, like Bilbao, remained true to
modern ideas, the country districts, led chiefly by priests, took up arms on behalf of the
absolute monarchy, assisted the French in the restoration of despotism in 1823, and
remained the permanent enemies of the constitutional cause. [399] On the death of
Ferdinand they declared at once for Don Carlos, and rose in rebellion against the
Government of Queen Christina, by which they considered the privileges of the Basque
Provinces and the interests of Catholic orthodoxy to be alike threatened.
There was little in the character of Don Carlos to stimulate the loyalty even of his most
benighted partizans. Of military and political capacity he was totally destitute, and his
The Ministers of Queen Christina, who had up till this time professed themselves
confident in their power to deal with the insurrection, could now no longer conceal the
real state of affairs. Valdes himself declared that the rebellion could not be subdued
without foreign aid; and after prolonged discussion in the Cabinet it was determined to
appeal to France for armed assistance. The flight of Don Carlos from England had
already caused an additional article to be added to the Treaty of the Quadruple
Alliance, in which France undertook so to watch the frontier of the Pyrenees that no
reinforcements or munition of war should reach the Carlists from that side, while
England promised to supply the troops of Queen Christina with arms and stores, and, if
necessary, to render assistance with a naval force (18th August, 1834). The foreign
supplies sent to the Carlists had thus been cut off both by land and sea; but more active
assistance seemed indispensable if Madrid was to be saved from falling into the
enemy's hands. The request was made to Louis Philippe's Government to occupy the
Basque Provinces with a corps of twelve thousand men. Reasons of weight might be
addressed to the French Court in favour of direct intervention. The victory of Don
Carlos would place upon the throne of Spain a representative of all those reactionary
influences throughout Europe which were in secret or in open hostility to the House of
Orleans, and definitely mark the failure of that policy which had led France to combine
with England in expelling Don Miguel from Portugal. On the other hand, the
experience gained from earlier military enterprises in Spain might well deter even
The first result of the rejection of the Spanish demand for the direct intervention of
France was the downfall of the Minister by whom this demand had been made. His
successor, Toreno, though a well-known patriot, proved unable to stem the tide of
revolution that was breaking over the country. City after city set up its own Junta, and
acted as if the central government had ceased to exist. Again the appeal for help was
made to Louis Philippe, and now, not so much to avert the victory of Don Carlos as to
save Spain from anarchy and from the constitution of 1812. Before an answer could
arrive, Toreno in his turn had passed away. Mendizabal, a banker who had been
entrusted with financial business at London, and who had entered into friendly relations
with Lord Palmerston, was called to office, as a politician acceptable to the democratic
party, and the advocate of a close connection with England rather than with France. In
spite of the confident professions of the Minister, and in spite of some assistance
actually rendered by the English fleet, no real progress was made in subduing the
Carlists, or in restoring administrative and financial order. The death of
Zumalacarregui, who was forced by Don Carlos to turn northwards and besiege Bilbao
instead of marching upon Madrid immediately after his victories, had checked the
progress of the rebellion at a critical moment; but the Government, distracted and
bankrupt, could not use the opportunity which thus offered itself, and the war soon
blazed out anew not only in the Basque Provinces but throughout the north of Spain.
For year after year the monotonous struggle continued, while Cortes succeeded Cortes
and faction supplanted faction, until there remained scarcely an officer who had not
lost his reputation or a politician who was not useless and discredited.
[Constitution of 1837.]
The Queen Regent, who from the necessities of her situation had for awhile been the
representative of the popular cause, gradually identified herself with the interests
opposed to democratic change; and although her name was still treated with some
respect, and her policy was habitually attributed to the misleading advice of courtiers,
her real position was well understood at Madrid, and her own resistance was known to
be the principal obstacle to the restoration of the Constitution of 1812. It was therefore
determined to overcome this resistance by force; and on the 13th of August, 1836, a
regiment of the garrison of Madrid, won over by the Exaltados, marched upon the
palace of La Granja, invaded the Queen's apartments, and compelled her to sign an
edict restoring the Constitution of 1812 until the Cortes should establish that or some
other. Scenes of riot and murder followed in the capital. Men of moderate opinions,
alarmed at the approach of anarchy, prepared to unite with Don Carlos. King Louis
Philippe, who had just consented to strengthen the French legion by the addition of
some thousands of trained soldiers, now broke entirely from the Spanish connection,
and dismissed his Ministers who refused to acquiesce in this change of policy.
Meanwhile the Eastern Powers and all rational partisans of absolutism besought Don
Carlos to give those assurances which would satisfy the wavering mass among his
opponents, and place him on the throne without the sacrifice of any right that was
worth preserving. It seemed as if the opportunity was too clear to be misunderstood;
but the obstinacy and narrowness of Don Carlos were proof against every call of
fortune. Refusing to enter into any sort of engagement, he rendered it impossible for
men to submit to him who were not willing to accept absolutism pure and simple. On
the other hand, a majority of the Cortes, whose eyes were now opened to the dangers
around them, accepted such modifications of the Constitution of 1812 that political
stability again appeared possible (June, 1837). The danger of a general transference of
all moderate elements in the State to the side of Don Carlos was averted; and, although
the Carlist armies took up the offensive, menaced the capital, and made incursions into
every part of Spain, the darkest period of the war was now over; and when, after
undertaking in person the march upon Madrid, Don Carlos swerved aside and
ultimately fell back in confusion to the Ebro, the suppression of the rebellion became a
certainty. General Espartero, with whom such distinction remained as was to be
gathered in this miserable war, forced back the adversary step by step, and carried fire
and sword into the Basque Provinces, employing a system of devastation which alone
seemed capable of exhausting the endurance of the people. Reduced to the last
extremity, the Carlist leaders turned their arms against one another. The priests
excommunicated the generals, and the generals shot the priests; and finally, on the 14th
September, after the surrender of almost all his troops to Espartero, Don Carlos crossed
the French frontier, and the conflict which during six years had barbarised and
disgraced the Spanish nation, reached its close.
The withdrawal of Louis Philippe from his engagements after the capitulation of Maria
Christina to the soldiery at La Granja in 1836 had diminished the confidence placed in
the King by the British Ministry; but it had not destroyed the relations of friendship
existing between the two Governments. Far more serious causes of difference arose out
of the course of events in the East, and the extension of the power of Mehemet Ali,
Viceroy of Egypt. The struggle between Mehemet and his sovereign, long foreseen,
broke out in the year 1832. After the establishment of the Hellenic Kingdom, the island
of Crete had been given to Mehemet in return for his services to the Ottoman cause by
land and sea. This concession, however, was far from satisfying the ambition of the
Viceroy, and a quarrel with Abdallah, Pasha of Acre, gave him the opportunity of
throwing an army into Palestine without directly rebelling against his sovereign (Nov.,
1831). Ibrahim, in command of his father's forces, laid siege to Acre; and had this
fortress at once fallen, it would probably have been allowed by the Sultan to remain in
its conqueror's hands as an addition to his own province, since the Turkish army was
not ready for war, and it was no uncommon thing in the Ottoman Empire for one
provincial governor to possess himself of territory at the expense of another. So
obstinate, however, was the defence of Acre that time was given to the Porte to make
preparations for war; and in the spring of 1832, after the issue of a proclamation
declaring Mehemet and his son to be rebels, a Turkish army led by Hussein Pasha
entered Syria.
Ibrahim, while the siege of Acre was proceeding, had overrun the surrounding country.
He was now in possession of all the interior of Palestine, and the tribes of Lebanon had
joined him in the expectation of gaining relief from the burdens of Turkish
misgovernment. The fall of Acre, while the relieving army was still near Antioch,
enabled him to throw his full strength against his opponent in the valley of the Orontes.
It was the intention of the Turkish general, whose forces, though superior in number,
had not the European training of Ibrahim's regiments, to meet the assault of the
Egyptians in an entrenched camp near Hama. The commander of the vanguard,
In this extremity the Sultan looked around for help; nor were offers of assistance
wanting. The Emperor Nicholas had since the Treaty of Adrianople assumed the part of
the magnanimous friend; his belief was that the Ottoman Empire might by judicious
management and without further conquest be brought into a state of habitual
dependence upon Russia; and before the result of the battle of Konieh was known
General Muravieff had arrived at Constantinople bringing the offer of Russian help
both by land and sea, and tendering his own personal services in the restoration of
peace. Mahmud had to some extent been won over by the Czar's politic forbearance in
the execution of the Treaty of Adrianople. His hatred of Mehemet Ali was a consuming
passion; and in spite of the general conviction both of his people and of his advisers
that no possible concession to a rebellious vassal could be so fatal as the protection of
the hereditary enemy of Islam, he was disposed to accept the Russian tender of
assistance. As a preliminary, Muravieff was sent to Alexandria with permission to cede
Acre to Mehemet Ali, if in return the Viceroy would make over his fleet to the Sultan.
These were conditions on which no reasonable man could have expected that Mehemet
would make peace; and the intention of the Russian Court probably was that
Muravieff's mission should fail. The envoy soon returned to Constantinople
announcing that his terms were rejected. Mahmud now requested that Russian ships
might be sent to the Bosphorus, and to the dismay of the French and English embassies
a Russian squadron appeared before the capital. Admiral Roussin, the French
ambassador, addressed a protest to the Sultan and threatened to leave Constantinople.
His remonstrances induced Mahmud to consent to some more serious negotiation being
opened with Mehemet Ali. A French envoy was authorised to promise the Viceroy the
governorship of Tripoli in Syria as well as Acre; his overtures, however, were not more
acceptable than those of Muravieff, and Mehemet openly declared that if peace were
For the moment it appeared that French influence had decisively prevailed at
Constantinople, and that the troops of the Czar had been summoned from Sebastopol
only to be dismissed with the ironical compliments of those who were most anxious to
get rid of them. But this was not really the case. Whether the fluctuations in the Sultan's
policy had been due to mere fear and irresolution, or whether they had to some extent
proceeded from the desire to play off one Power against another, it was to Russia, not
France, that his final confidence was given. The soldiers of the Czar were encamped by
the side of the Turks on the eastern shore of the Bosphorus; his ships lay below
Constantinople. Here on the 8th of July a Treaty was signed at the palace of Unkiar
Skelessi, [401] in which Russia and Turkey entered into a defensive alliance of the
most intimate character, each Power pledging itself to render assistance to the other,
not only against the attack of an external enemy, but in every event where its peace and
security might be endangered. Russia undertook, in cases where its support should be
required, to provide whatever amount of troops the Sultan should consider necessary
both by sea and land, the Porte being charged with no part of the expense beyond that
of the provisioning of the troops. The duration of the Treaty was fixed in the first
instance for eight years. A secret article, which, however, was soon afterwards
published, declared that, in order to diminish the burdens of the Porte, the Czar would
not demand the material help to which the Treaty entitled him; while, in substitution for
such assistance, the Porte undertook, when Russia should be at war, to close the
Dardanelles to the war-ships of all nations.
By the Treaty of Unkiar Skelessi, Russia came nearer than it has at any time before or
since to that complete ascendency at Constantinople which has been the modern object
of its policy. The success of its diplomatists had in fact been too great; for, if the
abstract right of the Sultan to choose his own allies had not yet been disputed by
Europe at large, the clause in the Treaty which related to the Dardanelles touched the
interests of every Power which possessed a naval station in the Mediterranean. By the
public law of Europe the Black Sea, which until the eighteenth century was
encompassed entirely by the Sultan's territory, formed no part of the open waters of the
world, but a Turkish lake to which access was given through the Dardanelles only at
the pleasure of the Porte. When, in the eighteenth century, Russia gained a footing on
the northern shore of the Euxine, this carried with it no right to send war-ships through
In desiring to check the extension of Russia's influence in the Levant, Great Britain and
France were at one. The lines of policy, however, followed by these two States were
widely divergent. Great Britain sought to maintain the Sultan's power in its integrity;
France became in an increasing degree the patron and the friend of Mehemet Ali. Since
the expedition of Napoleon to Egypt in 1798, which was itself the execution of a design
formed in the reign of Louis XVI., Egypt had largely retained its hold on the
imagination of the leading classes in France. Its monuments, its relics of a mighty past,
touched a livelier chord among French men of letters and science than India has at any
time found among ourselves; and although the hope of national conquest vanished with
Napoleon's overthrow, Egypt continued to afford a field of enterprise to many a civil
and military adventurer. Mehemet's army and navy were organised by French officers;
he was surrounded by French agents and men of business; and after the conquest of
Algiers had brought France on to the southern shore of the Mediterranean, the
advantages of a close political relation with Egypt did not escape the notice of
statesmen who saw in Gibraltar and Malta the most striking evidences of English
maritime power. Moreover the personal fame of Mehemet strongly affected French
opinion. His brilliant military reforms, his vigorous administration, and his specious
achievements in finance created in the minds of those who were too far off to know the
effects of his tyranny the belief that at the hands of this man the East might yet awaken
to new life. Thus, from a real conviction of the superiority of Mehemet's rule over that
of the House of Osman no less than from considerations of purely national policy, the
French Government, without any public or official bond of union, gradually became
the acknowledged supporters of the Egyptian conqueror, and connected his interests
with their own.
Sultan Mahmud had ratified the Preliminaries of Kutaya with wrath in his heart; and
from this time all his energies were bent upon the creation of a force which should
wrest back the lost provinces and take revenge upon his rebellious vassal. As eager as
Mehemet himself to reconstruct his form of government upon the models of the West,
though far less capable of impressing upon his work the stamp of a single guiding will,
thwarted moreover by the jealous interference of Russia whenever his reforms seemed
With all its characteristics of superior intelligence in the choice of means, the system of
Mehemet All was in its end that of the genuine Oriental despot. His final object was to
convert as many as possible of his subjects into soldiers, and to draw into his treasury
the profits of the labour of all the rest. With this aim he gradually ousted from their
rights of proprietorship the greater part of the land-owners of Egypt, and finally
proclaimed the entire soil to be State-domain, appropriating at prices fixed by himself
the whole of its produce. The natural commercial intercourse of his dominions gave
place to a system of monopolies carried on by the Government itself. Rapidly as this
system, which was introduced into the newly-conquered provinces, filled the coffers of
Mehemet Ali, it offered to the Sultan, whose paramount authority was still
acknowledged, the means of inflicting a deadly injury upon him by a series of
commercial treaties with the European Powers, granting to western traders a free
market throughout the Ottoman Empire. Resistance to such a measure would expose
Mehemet to the hostility of the whole mercantile interest of Europe; submission to it
would involve the loss of a great part of that revenue on which his military power
depended. It was probably with this result in view, rather than from any more obvious
motive, that in the year 1838 the Sultan concluded a new commercial Treaty with
England, which was soon followed by similar agreements with other States.
The import of the Sultan's commercial policy was not lost upon Mehemet, who had
already determined to declare himself independent. He saw that war was inevitable,
and bade Ibrahim collect his forces in the neighbourhood of Aleppo, while the generals
of the Sultan massed on the upper Euphrates the troops that had been successfully
employed in subduing the wild tribes of Kurdistan. The storm was seen to be gathering,
and the representatives of foreign Powers urged the Sultan, but in vain, to refrain from
an enterprise which might shatter his empire. Mahmud was now a dying man.
Exhausted by physical excess and by the stress and passion of his long reign, he bore in
his heart the same unquenchable hatreds as of old; and while assuring the ambassadors
The very suddenness of these disasters, which left the Ottoman Empire rulerless and
without defence by land or sea, contributed ultimately to its preservation, inasmuch as
it impelled the Powers to combined action, which, under less urgent pressure, would
probably not have been attainable. On the announcement of the exorbitant conditions of
peace demanded by Mehemet, the ambassadors addressed a collective note to the
Divan, requesting that no answer might be made until the Courts had arrived at some
common resolution. Soon afterwards the French and English fleets appeared at the
Dardanelles, nominally to protect Constantinople against the attack of the Viceroy, in
reality to guard against any sudden movement on the part of Russia. This display of
force was, however, not necessary, for the Czar, in spite of some expressions to the
contrary, had already convinced himself that it was impossible to act upon the Treaty of
Unkiar Skelessi and to make the protectorate of Turkey the affair of Russia alone. The
tone which had been taken by the English Government during the last preceding years
proved that any attempt to exercise exclusive power at Constantinople would have been
followed by war with Great Britain, in which most, if not all, of the European Powers
would have stood on the side of the latter. Abandoning therefore the hope of attaining
sole control, the Russian Government addressed itself to the task of widening as far as
possible the existing divergence between England and France. Nor was this difficult.
The Cabinet of the Tuileries desired to see Mehemet Ali issue with increased strength
from the conflict, or even to establish his dynasty at Constantinople in place of the
House of Osman. Lord Palmerston, always jealous and suspicious of Louis Philippe,
refused to believe that the growth of Russian power could be checked by dividing the
Ottoman Empire, or that any system of Eastern policy could be safely based on the
personal qualities of a ruler now past his seventieth year. [402] He had moreover his
own causes of discontent with Mehemet. The possibility of establishing an overland
route to India either by way of the Euphrates or of the Red Sea had lately been
engaging the attention of the English Government, and Mehemet had not improved his
position by raising obstacles to either line of passage. It was partly in consequence of
the hostility of Mehemet, who was now master of a great part of Arabia, and of his
known devotion to French interests, that the port of Aden in the Red Sea was at this
time occupied by England. If, while Russia accepted the necessity of combined
European action and drew nearer to its rival, France persisted in maintaining the claim
The publication of this Treaty, excluding France as it did from the concert of Europe,
produced a storm of indignation at Paris. Thiers, who more than any man had by his
writings stimulated the spirit of aggressive warfare among the French people and
revived the worship of Napoleon, was now at the head of the Government. His jealousy
for the prestige of France, his comparative indifference to other matters when once the
national honour appeared to be committed, his sanguine estimate of the power of his
country, rendered him a peculiarly dangerous Minister at the existing crisis. It was not
the wrongs or the danger of Mehemet Ali, but the slight offered to France, and the
revived League of the Powers which had humbled it in 1814, that excited the passion of
the Minister and the nation. Syria was forgotten; the cry was for the recovery of the
frontier of the Rhine, and for revenge for Waterloo. New regiments were enrolled, the
[The Dardanelles.]
The operations of the Allies against Mehemet Ali had now begun. While Prussia kept
guard on the Rhine, and Russia undertook to protect Constantinople against any
forward movement of Ibrahim, an Anglo-Austrian naval squadron combined with a
Turkish land-force in attacking the Syrian coast-towns. The mountain-tribes of the
interior were again in revolt. Arms supplied to them by the Allies, and the insurrection
soon spread over the greater part of Syria. Ibrahim prepared for an obstinate defence,
but his dispositions were frustrated by the extension of the area of conflict, and he was
unable to prevent the coast-towns from falling one after another into the hands of the
Allies. On the capture of Acre by Sir Charles Napier he abandoned all hope of
maintaining himself any longer in Syria, and made his way with the wreck of his army
towards the Egyptian frontier. Napier had already arrived before Alexandria, and there
executed a convention with the Viceroy, by which the latter, abandoning all claim upon
his other provinces, and undertaking to restore the Turkish fleet, was assured of the
hereditary possession of Egypt. The convention was one which the English admiral had
no authority to conclude, but it contained substantially the terms which the Allies
intended to enforce; and after Mehemet had made a formal act of submission to the
Sultan, the hereditary government of Egypt was conferred upon himself and his family
by a decree published by the Sultan and sanctioned by the Powers. This compromise
had been proposed by the French Government after the expiry of the twenty days
[Legislation of Reschid.]
The conclusion of the struggle of 1840 marked with great definiteness the real position
which the Ottoman Empire was henceforth to occupy in its relations to the western
world. Rescued by Europe at large from the alternatives of destruction at the hands of
Ibrahim or complete vassalage under Russia, the Porte entered upon the condition
nominally of an independent European State, really of a State existing under the
protection of Europe, and responsible to Europe as well for its domestic government as
for its alliances and for the conduct of its foreign policy. The necessity of conciliating
the public opinion of the West was well understood by the Turkish statesman who had
taken the leading part in the negotiations which freed the Porte from dependence upon
Russia. Reschid Pasha, the younger, Foreign Minister at the accession of the new
Sultan, had gained in an unusual degree the regard and the confidence of the European
Ministers with whom, as a diplomatist, he had been brought into contact. As the author
of a wide system of reforms, it was his ambition so to purify and renovate the internal
administration of the Ottoman Empire that the contrasts which it presented to the
civilised order of the West should gradually disappear, and that Turkey should become
not only in name but in reality a member of the European world. Stimulated no doubt
by the achievements of Mehemet Ali, and anxious to win over to the side of the Porte
the interest which Mehemet's partial adoption of European methods and ideas had
excited on his behalf, Reschid in his scheme of reform paid an ostentatious homage to
the principles of western administration and law, proclaiming the security of person
and property, prohibiting the irregular infliction of punishment, recognising the civil
rights of Christians and Jews, and transferring the collection of taxes from the
provincial governors to the officers of the central authority. The friends of the Ottoman
CHAPTER XVIII.
The characteristic of Continental history during the second quarter of this century is the
sense of unrest. The long period of European peace which began in 1815 was not one
of internal repose; the very absence of those engrossing and imperious interests which
belong to a time of warfare gave freer play to the feelings of discontent and the vague
longings for a better political order which remained behind after the convulsions of the
revolutionary epoch and the military rule of Napoleon had passed away. During thirty
years of peace the breach had been widening between those Governments which still
represented the system of 1815, and the peoples over whom they ruled. Ideas of liberty,
awakenings of national sense, were far more widely diffused in Europe than at the time
of the revolutionary war. The seed then prematurely forced into an atmosphere of storm
and reaction had borne its fruit: other growths, fertilised or accelerated by Western
Liberalism, but not belonging to the same family, were springing up in unexpected
strength, and in regions which had hitherto lain outside the movement of the modern
world. New forces antagonistic to Government had come into being, penetrating an
area unaffected by the constitutional struggles of the Mediterranean States, or by the
weaker political efforts of Germany. In the homes of the Magyar and the Slavic
subjects of Austria, so torpid throughout the agitation of an earlier time, the passion of
[Italy. 1831-1848.]
Italy, rather than France, forms the central figure in any retrospect of Europe
immediately before 1848 in which the larger forces at work are not obscured by those
for the moment more prominent. The failure of the insurrection of 1831 had left Austria
more visibly than before master over the Italian people even in those provinces in
which Austria was not nominally sovereign. It had become clear that no effort after
reform could be successful either in the Papal States or in the kingdom of Naples so
long as Austria held Lombardy and Venice. The expulsion of the foreigner was
therefore not merely the task of those who sought to give the Italian race its separate
and independent national existence, it was the task of all who would extinguish
oppression and misgovernment in any part of the Italian peninsula. Until the power of
Austria was broken, it was vain to take up arms against the tyranny of the Duke of
Modena or any other contemptible oppressor. Austria itself had twice taught this
lesson; and if the restoration of Neapolitan despotism in 1821 could be justified by the
disorderly character of the Government then suppressed, the circumstances attending
the restoration of the Pope's authority in 1831 had extinguished Austria's claim to any
sort of moral respect; for Metternich himself had united with the other European Courts
in declaring the necessity for reforms in the Papal Government, and of these reforms,
though a single earnest word from Austria would have enforced their execution, not
one had been carried into effect. Gradually, but with increasing force as each unhappy
year passed by, the conviction gained weight among all men of serious thought that the
problem to be faced was nothing less than the destruction of the Austrian yoke.
Whether proclaimed as an article of faith or veiled in diplomatic reserve, this belief
formed the common ground among men whose views on the immediate future of Italy
differed in almost every other particular.
[Mazzini.]
Three main currents of opinion are to be traced in the ferment of ideas which preceded
the Italian revolution of 1848. At a time not rich in intellectual or in moral power, the
most striking figure among those who are justly honoured as the founders of Italian
independence is perhaps that of Mazzini. Exiled during nearly the whole of his mature
life, a conspirator in the eyes of all Governments, a dreamer in the eyes of the world,
Mazzini was a prophet or an evangelist among those whom his influence led to devote
themselves to the one cause of their country's regeneration. No firmer faith, no nobler
disinterestedness, ever animated the saint or the patriot; and if in Mazzini there was
also something of the visionary and the fanatic, the force with which he grasped the
two vital conditions of Italian revival-the expulsion of the foreigner and the
establishment of a single national Government-proves him to have been a thinker of
genuine political insight. Laying the foundation of his creed deep in the moral nature of
man, and constructing upon this basis a fabric not of rights but of duties, he invested
the political union with the immediateness, the sanctity, and the beauty of family life.
[Hopes of Piedmont.]
Widely separated from the school of Mazzini in temper and intention was the group of
politicians and military men, belonging mostly to Piedmont, who looked to the
sovereign and the army of this State as the one hope of Italy in its struggle against
foreign rule. The House of Savoy, though foreign in its origin, was, and had been for
centuries, a really national dynasty. It was, moreover, by interest and traditional policy,
the rival rather than the friend of Austria in Northern Italy. If the fear of revolution had
at times brought the Court of Turin into close alliance with Vienna, the connection had
but thinly veiled the lasting antagonism of two States which, as neighbours, had
habitually sought expansion each at the other's cost. Lombardy, according to the
expression of an older time, was the artichoke which the Kings of Piedmont were
destined to devour leaf by leaf. Austria, on the other hand, sought extension towards
the Alps: it had in 1799 clearly shown its intention of excluding the House of Savoy
altogether from the Italian mainland; and the remembrance of this epoch had led the
restored dynasty in 1815 to resist the plans of Metternich for establishing a league of all
the princes of Italy under Austria's protection. The sovereign, moreover, who after the
failure of the constitutional movement of 1821 had mounted the throne surrounded by
Austrian bayonets, was no longer alive. Charles Albert of Carignano, who had at that
time played so ambiguous a part, and whom Metternich had subsequently endeavoured
to exclude from the succession, was on the throne. He had made his peace with
absolutism by fighting in Spain against the Cortes in 1823; and since his accession to
the throne he had rigorously suppressed the agitation of Mazzini's partizans within his
own dominions. But in spite of strong clerical and reactionary influences around him,
he had lately shown an independence of spirit in his dealings with Austria which raised
him in the estimation of his subjects; and it was believed that his opinions had been
deeply affected by the predominance which the idea of national independence was now
gaining over that of merely democratic change. If the earlier career of Charles Albert
himself cast some doubt upon his personal sincerity, and much more upon his
constancy of purpose, there was at least in Piedmont an army thoroughly national in its
sentiment, and capable of taking the lead whenever the opportunity should arise for
uniting Italy against the foreigner. In no other Italian State was there an effective
military force, or one so little adulterated with foreign elements.
A third current of opinion in these years of hope and of illusion was that represented in
the writings of Gioberti, the depicter of a new and glorious Italy, regenerated not by
philosophic republicanism or the sword of a temporal monarch, but by the moral force
A monk, ignorant of everything but cloister lore, benighted, tyrannical, the companion
in his private life of a few jolly priests and a gossiping barber, was not an alluring
emblem of the Church of the future. But in 1846 Pope Gregory XVI., who for the last
five years had been engaged in one incessant struggle against insurgents, conspirators,
and reformers, and whose prisons were crowded with the best of his subjects, passed
away. [405] His successor, Mastai Ferretti, Bishop of Imola, was elected under the title
of Pius IX., after the candidate favoured by Austria had failed to secure the requisite
number of votes (June 17). The choice of this kindly and popular prelate was to some
extent a tribute to Italian feeling; and for the next eighteen months it appeared as it
Gioberti had really divined the secret of the age. The first act of the new Pope was the
publication of a universal amnesty for political offences. The prison doors throughout
his dominions were thrown open, and men who had been sentenced to confinement for
life returned in exultation to their homes. The act created a profound impression
throughout Italy, and each good-humoured utterance of Pius confirmed the belief that
great changes were at hand. A wild enthusiasm seized upon Rome. The population
abandoned itself to festivals in honour of the Pontiff and of the approaching restoration
of Roman liberty. Little was done; not much was actually promised; everything was
believed. The principle of representative government was discerned in the new Council
of State now placed by the side of the College of Cardinals; a more serious concession
was made to popular feeling in the permission given to the citizens of Rome, and
afterwards to those of the provinces, to enrol themselves in a civic guard. But the
climax of excitement was reached when, in answer to a threatening movement of
Austria, occasioned by the growing agitation throughout Central Italy, the Papal Court
protested against the action of its late protector. By the Treaties of Vienna Austria had
gained the right to garrison the citadel of Ferrara, though this town lay within the
Ecclesiastical States. Placing a new interpretation on the expression used in the
Treaties, the Austrian Government occupied the town of Ferrara itself (June 17th,
In the meantime the agitation begun in Rome was spreading through the north and the
south of the peninsula, and beyond the Sicilian Straits. The centenary of the expulsion
of the Austrians from Genoa in December, 1746, was celebrated throughout central
Italy with popular demonstrations which gave Austria warning of the storm about to
burst upon it. In the south, however, impatience under domestic tyranny was a far more
powerful force than the distant hope of national independence. Sicily had never
forgotten the separate rights which it had once enjoyed, and the constitution given to it
under the auspices of England in 1812. Communications passed between the Sicilian
leaders and the opponents of the Bourbon Government on the mainland, and in the
autumn of 1847 simultaneous risings took place in Calabria and at Messina. These
were repressed without difficulty; but the fire smouldered far and wide, and on the 13th
of January, 1848, the population of Palermo rose in revolt. For fourteen days the
conflict between the people and the Neapolitan troops continued. The city was
bombarded, but in the end the people were victorious, and a provisional government
was formed by the leaders of the insurrection. One Sicilian town after another followed
the example of the capital, and expelled its Neapolitan garrison. Threatened by
revolution in Naples itself, King Ferdinand II., grandson of the despot of 1821, now
imitated the policy of his predecessor, and proclaimed a constitution. A Liberal
Ministry was formed, but no word was said as to the autonomy claimed by Sicily, and
promised, as it would seem, by the leaders of the popular party on the mainland. After
the first excitement of success was past, it became clear that the Sicilians were as
widely at variance with the newly-formed Government at Naples as with that which
they had overthrown.
The insurrection of Palermo gave a new stimulus and imparted more of revolutionary
colour to the popular movement throughout Italy. Constitutions were granted in
Piedmont and Tuscany. In the Austrian provinces national exasperation against the rule
of the foreigner grew daily more menacing. Radetzky, the Austrian
Commander-in-chief, had long foreseen the impending struggle, and had endeavoured,
but not with complete success, to impress his own views upon the imperial
Government. Verona had been made the centre of a great system of fortifications, and
the strength of the army under Radetzky's command had been considerably increased,
but it was not until the eleventh hour that Metternich abandoned the hope of tiding over
difficulties by his old system of police and spies, and permitted the establishment of
undisguised military rule. In order to injure the finances of Austria, a general resolution
had been made by the patriotic societies of Upper Italy to abstain from the use of
tobacco, from which the Government drew a large part of its revenue. On the first
Sunday in 1848 Austrian officers, smoking in the streets of Milan, were attacked by the
people. The troops were called to arms: a conflict took place, and enough blood was
shed to give to the tumult the importance of an actual revolt. In Padua and elsewhere
similar outbreaks followed. Radetzky issued a general order to his troops, declaring
that the Emperor was determined to defend his Italian dominion whether against an
external or domestic foe. Martial law was proclaimed; and for a moment, although
Piedmont gave signs of throwing itself into the Italian movement, the awe of Austria's
military power hushed the rising tempest. A few weeks more revealed to an astonished
world the secret that the Austrian State, so great and so formidable in the eyes of friend
and foe, was itself on the verge of dissolution.
[Austria.]
[Affairs in Hungary.]
It was to the absence of all stirring public life, not to any real assimilative power or any
high intelligence in administration, that the House of Hapsburg owed, during the
eighteenth century, the continued union of that motley of nations or races which
successive conquests, marriages, and treaties had brought under its dominion. The
violence of the attack made by the Emperor Joseph upon all provincial rights first
re-awakened the slumbering spirit of Hungary; but the national movement of that time,
which excited such strong hopes and alarms, had been succeeded by a long period of
stagnation, and during the Napoleonic wars the repression of everything that appealed
to any distinctively national spirit had become more avowedly than before the settled
principle of the Austrian Court. In 1812 the Hungarian Diet had resisted the financial
measures of the Government. The consequence was that, in spite of the law requiring
its convocation every three years, the Diet was not again summoned till 1825. During
the intermediate period, the Emperor raised taxes and levies by edict alone. Deprived of
its constitutional representation, the Hungarian nobility pursued its opposition to the
encroachments of the Crown in the Sessions of each county. At these assemblies, to
which there existed no parallel in the western and more advanced States of the
Continent, each resident land-owner who belonged to the very numerous caste of the
noblesse was entitled to speak and to vote. Retaining, in addition to the right of free
discussion and petition, the appointment of local officials, as well as a considerable
share in the actual administration, the Hungarian county-assemblies, handing down a
spirit of rough independence from an immemorial past, were probably the hardiest relic
of self-government existing in any of the great monarchical States of Europe. Ignorant,
often uncouth in their habits, oppressive to their peasantry, and dominated by the spirit
of race and caste, the mass of the Magyar nobility had indeed proved as impervious to
the humanising influences of the eighteenth century as they had to the solicitations of
despotism. The Magnates, or highest order of noblesse, who formed a separate chamber
in the Diet, had been to some extent denationalised; they were at once more European
in their culture, and more submissive to the Austrian Court. In banishing political
discussion from the Diet to the County Sessions, the Emperor's Government had
intensified the provincial spirit which it sought to extinguish. Too numerous to be won
over by personal inducements, and remote from the imperial agencies which had
worked so effectively through the Chamber of Magnates, the lesser nobility of Hungary
during these years of absolutism carried the habit of political discussion to their homes,
and learnt to baffle the imperial Government by withholding all help and all
information from its subordinate agents. Each county-assembly became a little
Parliament, and a centre of resistance to the usurpation of the Crown. The stimulus
There lay in this demand for the recognition of the national language the germ of a
conflict of race against race which was least of all suspected by those by whom the
demand was made. Hungary, as a political unity, comprised, besides the Slavic
kingdom of Croatia, wide regions in which the inhabitants were of Slavic or
Roumanian race, and where the Magyar was known only as a feudal lord. The district
in which the population at large belonged to the Magyar stock did not exceed one-half
of the kingdom. For the other races of Hungary, who were probably twice as numerous
as themselves, the Magyars entertained the utmost contempt, attributing to them the
moral qualities of the savage, and denying to them the possession of any nationality
whatever. In a country combining so many elements ill-blended with one another, and
all alike subject to a German Court at Vienna, Latin, as the language of the Church and
formerly the language of international communication, had served well as a neutral
means of expression in public affairs. There might be Croatian deputies in the Diet who
could not speak Magyar; the Magyars could not understand Croatian; both could
understand and could without much effort express themselves in the species of Latin
which passed muster at Presburg and at Vienna. Yet no freedom of handling could
convert a dead language into a living one; and when the love of country and of ancient
right became once more among the Magyars an inspiring passion, it naturally sought a
nobler and more spontaneous utterance than dog-latin. Though no law was passed upon
the subject in the Parliament in which it was first mooted, speakers in the Diet of 1832
used their mother-tongue; and when the Viennese Government forbade the publication
of the debates, reports were circulated in manuscript through the country by Kossuth, a
young deputy, who after the dissolution of the Diet in 1836 paid for his defiance of the
Emperor by three years' imprisonment.
[Széchenyi.]
Hungary now seemed to be entering upon an epoch of varied and rapid national
development. The barriers which separated it from the Western world were
disappearing. The literature, the ideas, the inventions of Western Europe were
penetrating its archaic society, and transforming a movement which in its origin had
been conservative and aristocratic into one of far-reaching progress and reform. Alone
among the opponents of absolute power on the Continent, the Magyars had based their
resistance on positive constitutional right, on prescription, and the settled usage of the
past; and throughout the conflict with the Crown between 1812 and 1825 legal right
was on the side not of the Emperor but of those whom he attempted to coerce. With
excellent judgment the Hungarian leaders had during these years abstained from raising
any demand for reforms, appreciating the advantage of a purely defensive position in a
combat with a Court pledged in the eyes of all Europe, as Austria was, to the defence of
[Transylvania.]
That the Hungarian movement of this time was converted from one of fruitful progress
into an embittered political conflict ending in civil war was due, among other causes, to
the action of the Austrian Cabinet itself. Wherever constitutional right existed, there
Austria saw a natural enemy. The province of Transylvania, containing a mixed
population of Magyars, Germans, and Roumanians, had, like Hungary, a Diet of its
own, which Diet ought to have been summoned every year. It was, however, not once
assembled between 1811 and 1834. In the agitation at length provoked in Transylvania
by this disregard of constitutional right, the Magyar element naturally took the lead,
and so gained complete ascendancy in the province. When the Diet met in 1834, its
language and conduct were defiant in the highest degree. It was speedily dissolved, and
the scandal occasioned by its proceedings disturbed the last days of the Emperor
Francis, who died in 1835, leaving the throne to his son Ferdinand, an invalid incapable
of any serious exertion. It soon appeared that nothing was changed in the principles of
the Imperial Government, and that whatever hopes had been formed of the
establishment of a freer system under the new reign were delusive. The leader of the
Transylvanian Opposition was Count Wesselényi, himself a Magnate in Hungary, who,
after the dissolution of the Diet, betook himself to the Sessions of the Hungarian
counties, and there delivered speeches against the Court which led to his being arrested
and brought to trial for high treason. His cause was taken up by the Hungarian Diet, as
one in which the rights of the local assemblies were involved. The plea of privilege
was, however, urged in vain, and the sentence of exile which was passed upon Count
Wesselényi became a new source of contention between the Crown and the Magyar
Estates. [407]
It was in vain that the effort was made at Presburg to resist all claims but those of one
race. The same quickening breath which had stirred the Magyar nation to new life had
also passed over the branches of the Slavic family within the Austrian dominions far
and near. In Bohemia a revival of interest in the Czech language and literature, which
began about 1820, had in the following decade gained a distinctly political character.
Societies originally or professedly founded for literary objects had become the centres
of a popular movement directed towards the emancipation of the Czech elements in
Bohemia from German ascendancy, and the restoration of something of a national
character to the institutions of the kingdom. Among the southern Slavs, with whom
Hungary was more directly concerned, the national movement first became visible
rather later. Its earliest manifestations took, just as in Bohemia, a literary or linguistic
form. Projects for the formation of a common language which, under the name of
Illyrian, should draw together all the Slavic populations between the Adriatic and the
Black Sea, occupied for a while the fancy of the learned; but the more ambitious part of
this design, which had given some umbrage to the Turkish Government, was
abandoned in obedience to instructions from Vienna; and the movement first gained
political importance when its scope was limited to the Croatian and Slavonic districts
of Hungary, and it was endowed with the distinct task of resisting the imposition of
Magyar as an official language. In addition to their representation in the Diet of the
Kingdom at Presburg, the Croatian landowners had their own Provincial Diet at
Agram. In this they possessed not only a common centre of action, but an organ of
communication with the Imperial Government at Vienna, which rendered them some
support in their resistance to Magyar pretensions. Later events gave currency to the
belief that a conflict of races in Hungary was deliberately stimulated by the Austrian
Court in its own interest. But the whole temper and principle of Metternich's rule was
opposed to the development of national spirit, whether in one race or another; and the
patronage which the Croats appeared at this time to receive at Vienna was probably no
more than an instinctive act of conservatism, intended to maintain the balance of
interests, and to reduce within the narrowest possible limits such changes as might
prove inevitable.
Of all the important measures of reform which were brought before the Hungarian Diet
of 1843, one alone had become law. The rest were either rejected by the Chamber of
Magnates after passing the Lower House, or were thrown out in the Lower House in
spite of the approval of the majority, in consequence of peremptory instructions sent to
It now became plain to all but the blindest that great changes were inevitable; and at the
instance of the more intelligent among the Conservative party in Hungary the Imperial
Government resolved to enter the lists with a policy of reform, and, if possible, to wrest
the helm from the men who were becoming masters of the nation. In order to secure a
majority in the Diet, it was deemed requisite by the Government first to gain a
predominant influence in the county-assemblies. As a preliminary step, most of the
Lieutenants of counties, to whose high dignity no practical functions attached, were
removed from their posts, and superseded by paid administrators, appointed from
Vienna. Count Apponyi, one of the most vigorous of the conservative and aristocratic
reformers, was placed at the head of the Ministry. In due time the proposals of the
Government were made public. They comprised the taxation of the nobles, a reform of
the municipalities, modifications in the land-system, and a variety of economic
measures intended directly to promote the material development of the country. The
latter were framed to some extent on the lines laid down by Szechenyi, who now, in
bitter antagonism to Kossuth, accepted office under the Government, and gave to it the
prestige of his great name. It remained for the Opposition to place their own
counter-proposals before the country. Differences within the party were smoothed over,
and a manifesto, drawn up by Deák, gave statesmanlike expression to the aims of the
national leaders. Embracing every reform included in the policy of the Government, it
added to them others which the Government had not ventured to face, and gave to the
whole the character of a vindication of its own rights by the nation, in contrast to a
The directly constitutional problems with which the Diet of Presburg had to deal were
peculiar to Hungary itself, and did not exist in the other parts of the Austrian Empire.
There were, however, social problems which were not less urgently forcing themselves
upon public attention alike in Hungary and in those provinces which enjoyed no
constitutional rights. The chief of these was the condition of the peasant-population. In
the greater part of the Austrian dominions, though serfage had long been abolished,
society was still based upon the manorial system. The peasant held his land subject to
the obligation of labouring on his lord's domain for a certain number of days in the
year, and of rendering him other customary services: the manor-court, though checked
by the neighbourhood of crown-officers, retained its jurisdiction, and its agents
frequently performed duties of police. Hence the proposed extinction of the so-called
feudal tie, and the conversion of the semi-dependent cultivator into a freeholder bound
only to the payment of a fixed money-charge, or rendered free of all obligation by the
surrender of a part of his holding, involved in many districts the institution of new
public authorities and a general reorganisation of the minor local powers. From this
task the Austrian Government had shrunk in mere lethargy, even when, as in 1835,
proposals for change had come from the landowners themselves. The work begun by
Maria Theresa and Joseph remained untouched, though thirty years of peace had given
abundant opportunity for its completion, and the legislation of Hardenberg in 1810
afforded precedents covering at least part of the field.
At length events occurred which roused the drowsiest heads in Vienna from their
slumbers. The party of action among the Polish refugees at Paris had determined to
strike another blow for the independence of their country. Instead, however, of
repeating the insurrection of Warsaw, it was arranged that the revolt should commence
in Prussian and Austrian Poland, and the beginning of the year 1846 was fixed for the
uprising. In Prussia the Government crushed the conspirators before a blow could be
struck. In Austria, though ample warning was given, the precautions taken were
insufficient. General Collin occupied the Free City of Cracow, where the revolutionary
committee had its headquarters; but the troops under his command were so weak that
he was soon compelled to retreat, and to await the arrival of reinforcements.
[Vienna.]
In the purely German provinces of Austria there lingered whatever of the spirit of
tranquillity was still to be found within the Empire. This, however, was not the case in
the districts into which the influence of the capital extended. Vienna had of late grown
out of its old careless spirit. The home in past years of a population notoriously
pleasure-loving, good-humoured, and indifferent to public affairs, it had now taken
something of a more serious character. The death of the Emperor Francis, who to the
last generation of Viennese had been as fixed a part of the order of things as the river
Danube, was not unconnected with this change in the public tone. So long as the old
Emperor lived, all thought that was given to political affairs was energy thrown away.
By his death not only had the State lost an ultimate controlling power, if dull, yet
practised and tenacious, but this loss was palpable to all the world. The void stood bare
and unrelieved before the public eye. The notorious imbecility of the Emperor
Ferdinand, the barren and antiquated formalism of Metternich and of that entire system
which seemed to be incorporated in him, made Government an object of general satire,
and in some quarters of rankling contempt. In proportion as the culture and intelligence
of the capital exceeded that of other towns, so much the more galling was the pressure
[Prussia.]
At Berlin the solid order of Prussian absolutism already shook to its foundation. With
King Frederick William III., whose long reign ended in 1840, there departed the
half-filial, half-spiritless acquiescence of the nation in the denial of the liberties which
had been so solemnly promised to it at the epoch of Napoleon's fall. The new
Sovereign, Frederick William IV., ascended the throne amid high national hopes. The
very contrast which his warm, exuberant nature offered to the silent, reserved
disposition of his father impressed the public for awhile in his favour. In the more
shining personal qualities he far excelled all his immediate kindred. His artistic and
literary sympathies, his aptitude of mind and readiness of speech, appeared to mark the
man of a new age, and encouraged the belief that, in spite of the mediæval dreams and
reactionary theories to which, as prince, he had surrendered himself, he would, as King,
appreciate the needs of the time, and give to Prussia the free institutions which the
nation demanded. The first acts of the new reign were generously conceived. Political
offenders were freely pardoned. Men who had suffered for their opinions were restored
to their posts in the Universities and the public service, or selected for promotion. But
when the King approached the constitutional question, his utterances were
unsatisfactory. Though undoubtedly in favour of some reform, he gave no sanction to
the idea of a really national representation, but seemed rather to seek occasions to
condemn it. Other omens of ill import were not wanting. Allying his Government with
a narrow school of theologians, the King offended men of independent mind, and
transgressed against the best traditions of Prussian administration. The prestige of the
new reign was soon exhausted. Those who had believed Frederick William to be a man
of genius now denounced him as a vaporous, inflated dilettante; his enthusiasm was
In the Edicts by which the last King of Prussia had promised his people a Constitution,
it had been laid down that the representative body was to spring from the Provincial
Estates, and that it was to possess, in addition to its purely consultative functions in
legislation, a real power of control over all State loans and over all proposed additions
to taxation. The interdependence of the promised Parliament and the Provincial Estates
had been seen at the time to endanger the success of Hardenberg's scheme;
nevertheless, it was this conception which King Frederick William IV. made the very
centre of his Constitutional policy. A devotee to the distant past, he spoke of the
Provincial Estates, which in their present form had existed only since 1823, as if they
were a great national and historic institution which had come down unchanged through
centuries. His first experiment was the summoning of a Committee from these bodies
to consider certain financial projects with which the Government was occupied (1842).
The labours of the Committee were insignificant, nor was its treatment at the hands of
the Crown Ministers of a serious character. Frederick William, however, continued to
meditate over his plans, and appointed a Commission to examine the project drawn up
at his desire by the Cabinet. The agitation in favour of Parliamentary Government
became more and more pressing among the educated classes; and at length, in spite of
some opposition from his brother, the Prince of Prussia, afterwards Emperor of
Germany, the King determined to fulfil his father's promise and to convoke a General
Assembly at Berlin. On the 3rd of February, 1847, there appeared a Royal Patent,
which summoned all the Provincial Estates to the capital to meet as a United Diet of
the Kingdom. The Diet was to be divided into two Chambers, the Upper Chamber
including the Royal Princes and highest nobles, the Lower the representatives of the
knights, towns, and peasants. The right of legislation was not granted to the Diet; it
had, however, the right of presenting petitions on internal affairs. State-loans and new
taxes were not, in time of peace, to be raised without its consent. No regular interval
was fixed for the future meetings of the Diet, and its financial rights were moreover
reduced by other provisions, which enacted that a United Committee from the
Provincial Estates was to meet every four years for certain definite objects, and that a
special Delegation was to sit each year for the transaction of business relating to the
National Debt. [409]
The nature of the General Assembly convoked by this Edict, the functions conferred
upon it, and the guarantees offered for Representative Government in the future, so
little corresponded with the requirements of the nation, that the question was at once
raised in Liberal circles whether the concessions thus tendered by the King ought to be
accepted or rejected. The doubt which existed as to the disposition of the monarch
himself was increased by the speech from the throne at the opening of the Diet (April
11). In a vigorous harangue extending over half an hour, King Frederick William,
while he said much that was appropriate to the occasion, denounced the spirit of
revolution that was working in the Prussian Press, warned the Deputies that they had
When, after a series of debates on the political questions at issue, the actual business of
the Session began, the relations between the Government and the Assembly grew
worse rather than better. The principal measures submitted were the grant of a
State-guarantee to certain land-banks established for the purpose of extinguishing the
rent-charges on peasants' holdings, and the issue of a public loan for the construction of
railways by the State. Alleging that the former measure was not directly one of
taxation, the Government, in laying it before the Diet, declared that they asked only for
an opinion, and denied that the Diet possessed any right of decision. Thus challenged,
as it were, to make good its claims, the Diet not only declined to assent to this
guarantee, but set its veto on the proposed railway-loan. Both projects were in
themselves admitted to be to the advantage of the State; their rejection by the Diet was
an emphatic vindication of constitutional rights which the Government seemed
indisposed to acknowledge. Opposition grew more and more embittered; and when, as
a preliminary to the dissolution of the Diet, the King ordered its members to proceed to
the election of the Committees and Delegation named in the Edict of February 3rd, an
important group declined to take part in the elections, or consented to do so only under
reservations, on the ground that the Diet, and that alone, possessed the constitutional
control over finance which the King was about to commit to other bodies. Indignant at
this protest, the King absented himself from the ceremony which brought the Diet to a
close (June 26th). Amid general irritation and resentment the Assembly broke up.
Nothing had resulted from its convocation but a direct exhibition of the antagonism of
purpose existing between the Sovereign and the national representatives. Moderate men
were alienated by the doctrines promulgated from the Throne; and an experiment
which, if more wisely conducted, might possibly at the eleventh hour have saved all
Germany from revolution, left the Monarchy discredited and exposed to the attack of
the most violent of its foes.
[Louis Philippe.]
While the Carlist War was still continuing, Lord Palmerston had convinced himself that
Louis Philippe intended to marry the young Queen Isabella, if possible, to one of his
sons. Some years later this project was unofficially mentioned by Guizot to the English
statesman, who at once caused it to be understood that England would not permit the
union. Abandoning this scheme, Louis Philippe then demanded, by a misconstruction
of the Treaty of Utrecht, that the Queen's choice of a husband should be limited to the
Bourbons of the Spanish or Neapolitan line. To this claim Lord Aberdeen, who had
become Foreign Secretary in 1841, declined to give his assent; he stated, however, that
no step would be taken by England in antagonism to such marriage, if it should be
deemed desirable at Madrid. Louis Philippe now suggested that his youngest son, the
Duke of Montpensier, should wed the Infanta Fernanda, sister of the Queen of Spain.
On the express understanding that this marriage should not take place until the Queen
should herself have been married and have had children, the English Cabinet assented
to the proposal. That the marriages should not be simultaneous was treated by both
Governments as the very heart and substance of the arrangement, inasmuch as the
failure of children by the Queen's marriage would make her sister, or her sister's heir,
inheritor of the Throne. This was repeatedly acknowledged by Louis Philippe and his
Minister, Guizot, in the course of communications with the British Court which
extended over some years. Nevertheless, in 1846, the French Ambassador at Madrid, in
conjunction with the Queen's mother, Maria Christina, succeeded in carrying out a plan
by which the conditions laid down at London and accepted at Paris were utterly
frustrated. Of the Queen's Spanish cousins, there was one, Don Francisco, who was
known to be physically unfit for marriage. To this person it was determined by Maria
Christina and the French Ambassador that the young Isabella should be united, her
sister being simultaneously married to the Duke of Montpensier. So flagrantly was this
arrangement in contradiction to the promises made at the Tuileries, that, when
intelligence of it arrived at Paris, Louis Philippe declared for a moment that the
Few intrigues have been more disgraceful than that of the Spanish Marriages; none
more futile. The course of history mocked its ulterior purposes; its immediate results
were wholly to the injury of the House of Orleans. The cordial understanding between
France and Great Britain, which had been revived after the differences of 1840, was
now finally shattered, Louis Philippe stood convicted before his people of sacrificing a
valuable alliance to purely dynastic ends; his Minister, the austere and sanctimonious
Guizot, had to defend himself against charges which would have covered with shame
the most hardened man of the world. Thus stripped of its garb of moral superiority,
condemned as at once unscrupulous and unpatriotic, the Orleanist Monarchy had to
meet the storm of popular discontent which was gathering over France as well as over
neighbouring lands. For the lost friendship of England it was necessary to seek a
substitute in the support of some Continental Power. Throwing himself into the
reactionary policy of the Court of Vienna, Guizot endeavoured to establish a diplomatic
concert from which England should be excluded, as France had been in 1840. There
were circumstances which gave some countenance to the design. The uncompromising
vigour with which Lord Palmerston supported the Liberal movement now becoming so
formidable in Italy made every absolute Government in Europe his enemy; and had
time been granted, the despotic Courts would possibly have united with France in some
more or less open combination against the English Minister. But the moments were
now numbered; and ere the projected league could take substance, the whirlwind
descended before which Louis Philippe and his Minister were the first to fall.
A demand for the reform of the French Parliamentary system had been made when
Guizot was entering upon office in the midst of the Oriental crisis of 1840. It had then
been silenced and repressed by all the means at the disposal of the Executive; King
Louis Philippe being convinced that with a more democratic Chamber the maintenance
of his own policy of peace would be impossible. The demand was now raised again
with far greater energy. Although the franchise had been lowered after the Revolution
of July, it was still so high that not one person in a hundred and fifty possessed a vote,
while the property-qualification which was imposed upon the Deputies themselves
excluded from the Chamber all but men of substantial wealth. Moreover, there existed
no law prohibiting the holders of administrative posts under the Government from
[Socialism.]
But there were other ideas and other forces active among the labouring population of
Paris than those familiar to the politicians of the Assembly. Theories of Socialism, the
property of a few thinkers and readers during the earlier years of Louis Philippe's reign,
had now sunk deep among the masses, and become, in a rough and easily apprehended
form, the creed of the poor. From the time when Napoleon's fall had restored to France
its faculty of thought, and, as it were, turned the soldier's eyes again upon his home,
those questionings as to the basis of the social union which had occupied men's minds
at an earlier epoch were once more felt and uttered. The problem was still what it had
been in the eighteenth century; the answer was that of a later age. Kings, priests, and
nobles had been overthrown, but misery still covered the world. In the teaching of
Saint-Simon, under the Restoration, religious conceptions blended with a great
industrial scheme; in the Utopia of Fourier, produced at the same fruitful period,
whatever was valuable belonged to its suggestions in co-operative production. But
whether the doctrine propounded was that of philosopher, or sage, or charlatan, in
every case the same leading ideas were visible;-the insufficiency of the individual in
isolation, the industrial basis of all social life, the concern of the community, or of its
supreme authority, in the organisation of labour. It was naturally in no remote or
complex form that the idea of a new social order took possession of the mind of the
workman in the faubourgs of Paris. He read in Louis Blanc, the latest and most
intelligible of his teachers of the right to labour, of the duty of the State to provide
work for its citizens. This was something actual and tangible. For this he was ready
upon occasion to take up arms; not for the purpose of extending the franchise to
another handful of the Bourgeoisie, or of shifting the profits of government from one
set of place-hunters to another. In antagonism to the ruling Minister the Reformers in
the Chamber and the Socialists in the streets might for a moment unite their forces: but
their ends were irreconcilable, and the allies of to-day were necessarily the foes of
to-morrow.
[Feb. 22nd.]
At the close of the year 1847 the last Parliament of the Orleanist Monarchy assembled.
The speech from the Throne, delivered by Louis Philippe himself, denounced in strong
terms the agitation for Reform which had been carried on during the preceding months,
though this agitation had, on the whole, been the work of the so-called Dynastic
Opposition, which, while demanding electoral reform, was sincerely loyal to the
Monarchy. The King's words were a challenge; and in the debate on the Address, the
challenge was taken up by all ranks of Monarchical Liberals as well as by the small
Republican section in the Assembly. The Government, however, was still secure of its
majority. Defeated in the votes on the Address, the Opposition determined, by way of
protest, to attend a banquet to be held in the Champs Elysées on the 22nd of February
by the Reform-party in Western Paris. It was at first desired that by some friendly
arrangement with the Government, which had declared the banquet illegal, the
possibility of recourse to violence should be avoided. Misunderstandings, however,
arose, and the Government finally prohibited the banquet, and made preparations for
meeting any disturbance with force of arms. The Deputies, anxious to employ none but
legal means of resistance, now resolved not to attend the banquet; on the other hand,
the Democratic and Socialist leaders welcomed a possible opportunity for revolt. On
the morning of the 22nd masses of men poured westwards from the workmen's quarter.
The city was in confusion all day, and the erection of barricades began. Troops were
posted in the streets; no serious attack, however, was made by either side, and at
nightfall quiet returned.
[Feb. 23rd.]
On the next morning the National Guard of Paris was called to arms. Throughout the
struggle between Louis Philippe and the populace of Paris in the earlier years of his
reign, the National Guard, which was drawn principally from the trading classes, had
fought steadily for the King. Now, however, it was at one with the Liberal Opposition
in the Assembly, and loudly demanded the dismissal of the Ministers. While some of
the battalions interposed between the regular troops and the populace and averted a
conflict, others proceeded to the Chamber with petitions for Reform. Obstinately as
Louis Philippe had hitherto refused all concession, the announcement of the threatened
defection of the National Guard at length convinced him that resistance was
impossible. He accepted Guizot's resignation, and the Chamber heard from the fallen
Minister himself that he had ceased to hold office. Although the King declined for
awhile to commit the formation of a Ministry to Thiers, the recognised chief of the
Opposition, and endeavoured to place a politician more acceptable to himself in office,
it was felt that with the fall of Guizot all real resistance to Reform was broken. Nothing
more was asked by the Parliamentary Opposition or by the middle-class of Paris. The
victory seemed to be won, the crisis at an end. In the western part of the capital
congratulation and good-humour succeeded to the fear of conflict. The troops
[Feb. 24th.]
In the midst, however, of this rejoicing, and while the chiefs of the revolutionary
societies, fearing that the opportunity had been lost for striking a blow at the
Monarchy, exhorted the defenders of the barricades to maintain their positions, a band
of workmen came into conflict, accidentally or of set purpose, with the troops in front
of the Foreign Office. A volley was fired, which killed or wounded eighty persons.
Placing the dead bodies on a waggon, and carrying them by torchlight through the
streets in the workmen's quarter, the insurrectionary leaders called the people to arms.
The tocsin sounded throughout the night; on the next morning the populace marched
against the Tuileries. In consequence of the fall of the Ministry and the supposed
reconciliation of the King with the People, whatever military dispositions had been
begun had since been abandoned. At isolated points the troops fought bravely; but there
was no systematic defence. Shattered by the strain of the previous days, and dismayed
by the indifference of the National Guard when he rode out among them, the King, who
at every epoch of his long life had shown such conspicuous courage in the presence of
danger, now lost all nerve and all faculty of action. He signed an act of abdication in
favour of his grandson, the Count of Paris, and fled. Behind him the victorious mob
burst into the Tuileries and devastated it from cellar to roof. The Legislative Chamber,
where an attempt was made to proclaim the Count of Paris King, was in its turn
invaded. In uproar and tumult a Provisional Government was installed at the Hôtel de
Ville; and ere the day closed the news went out to Europe that the House of Orleans
had ceased to reign, and that the Republic had been proclaimed. It was not over France
alone, it was over the Continent at large, that the tide of revolution was breaking.
VOLUME III.
Europe in 1789 and in 1848-Agitation in Western Germany before and after the
Revolution at Paris-Austria and Hungary-The March Revolution at Vienna-Flight of
Metternich-The Hungarian Diet-Hungary wins its independence-Bohemian
movement-Autonomy promised to Bohemia- Insurrection of Lombardy-Of
Venice-Piedmont makes war on Austria-A general Italian war against Austria
imminent-The March Days at Berlin-Frederick William IV.-A National Assembly
promised- Schleswig-Holstein-Insurrection in Holstein-War between Germany and
Denmark-The German Ante-Parliament-Republican rising in Baden-Meeting of the
German National Assembly at Frankfort-Europe generally in March, 1848-The French
Provisional Government-The National Workshops-The Government and the Red
Republicans-French National Assembly-Riot of May 15-Measures against the National
Workshops-The Four Days of June- Cavaignac-Louis Napoleon-He is elected to the
Assembly-Elected President.
There were few statesmen living in 1848 who, like Metternich and like Louis Philippe,
could remember the outbreak of the French Revolution. To those who could so look
back across the space of sixty years, a comparison of the European movements that
followed the successive onslaughts upon authority in France afforded some measure of
the change that had passed over the political atmosphere of the Continent within a
single lifetime. The Revolution of 1789, deeply as it stirred men's minds in
neighbouring countries, had occasioned no popular outbreak on a large scale outside
France. The expulsion of Charles X. in 1830 had been followed by national uprisings in
Italy, Poland, and Belgium, and by a struggle for constitutional government in the
smaller States of Northern Germany. The downfall of Louis Philippe in 1848 at once
convulsed the whole of central Europe. From the Rhenish Provinces to the Ottoman
frontier there was no government but the Swiss Republic that was not menaced; there
was no race which did not assert its claim to a more or less complete independence.
Communities whose long slumber had been undisturbed by the shocks of the
Napoleonic period now vibrated with those same impulses which, since 1815, no
pressure of absolute power had been able wholly to extinguish in Italy and Germany.
The borders of the region of political discontent had been enlarged; where apathy, or
immemorial loyalty to some distant crown, had long closed the ear to the voices of the
new age, now all was restlessness, all eager expectation of the dawning epoch of
national life. This was especially the case with the Slavic races included in the Austrian
Empire, races which during the earlier years of this century had been wholly mute.
These in their turn now felt the breath of patriotism, and claimed the right of
self-government. Distinct as the ideas of national independence and of constitutional
liberty are in themselves, they were not distinct in their operation over a great part of
Europe in 1848; and this epoch will be wrongly conceived if it is viewed as no more
than a repetition on a large scale of the democratic outbreak of Paris with which it
opened. More was sought in Europe in 1848 than the substitution of popular for
monarchical or aristocratic rule. The effort to make the State one with the nation
excited wider interests than the effort to enlarge and equalise citizen rights; and it is in
The sudden disappearance of the Orleanist monarchy and the proclamation of the
Republic at Paris struck with dismay the Governments beyond the Rhine. Difficulties
were already gathering round them, opposition among their own subjects was daily
becoming more formidable and more outspoken. In Western Germany a meeting of
Liberal deputies had been held in the autumn of 1847, in which the reform of the
Federal Constitution and the establishment of a German Parliament had been
demanded: a Republican or revolutionary party, small but virulent, had also its own
avowed policy and its recognised organs in the press. No sooner had the news of the
Revolution at Paris passed the frontier than in all the minor German States the cry for
reform became irresistible. Ministers everywhere resigned; the popular demands were
granted; and men were called to office whose names were identified with the struggle
for the freedom of the Press, for trial by jury, and for the reform of the Federal
Constitution. The Federal Diet itself, so long the instrument of absolutism, bowed
beneath the stress of the time, abolished the laws of censorship, and invited the
Governments to send Commissioners to Frankfort to discuss the reorganisation of
Germany. It was not, however, at Frankfort or at the minor capitals that the conflict
between authority and its antagonists was to be decided. Vienna, the stronghold of
absolutism, the sanctuary from which so many interdicts had gone forth against
freedom in every part of Europe, was itself invaded by the revolutionary spirit. The
clear sky darkened, and Metternich found himself powerless before the storm.
[Austria.]
There had been until 1848 so complete an absence of political life in the Austrian
capital, that, when the conviction suddenly burst upon all minds that the ancient order
was doomed, there were neither party-leaders to confront the Government, nor plans of
reform upon which any considerable body of men were agreed. The first utterances of
public discontent were petitions drawn up by the Chamber of Commerce and by
literary associations. These were vague in purport and far from aggressive in their tone.
A sterner note sounded when intelligence reached the capital of the resolutions that had
been passed by the Hungarian Lower House on the 3rd of March, and of the language
in which these had been enforced by Kossuth. Casting aside all reserve, the Magyar
leader had declared that the reigning dynasty could only be saved by granting to
Hungary a responsible Ministry drawn from the Diet itself, and by establishing
constitutional government throughout the Austrian dominions. "From the charnel-house
of the Viennese system," he cried, "a poison-laden atmosphere steals over us, which
paralyses our nerves and bows us when we would soar. The future of Hungary can
The Provincial Estates of Lower Austria had long fallen into such insignificance that in
ordinary times their proceedings were hardly noticed by the capital. The accident that
they were now to assemble in the midst of a great crisis elevated them to a sudden
importance. It was believed that the decisive word would be spoken in the course of
their debates; and on the morning of the 13th of March masses of the populace, led by a
procession of students, assembled round the Hall of the Diet. While the debate
proceeded within, street-orators inflamed the passions of the crowd outside. The tumult
deepened; and when at length a note was let down from one of the windows of the Hall
stating that the Diet were inclining to half-measures, the mob broke into uproar, and an
attack was made upon the Diet Hall itself. The leading members of the Estates were
compelled to place themselves at the head of a deputation, which proceeded to the
Emperor's palace in order to enforce the demands of the people. The Emperor himself,
who at no time was capable of paying serious attention to business, remained invisible
during this and the two following days; the deputation was received by Metternich and
the principal officers of State, who were assembled in council. Meanwhile the crowds
in the streets became denser and more excited; soldiers approached, to protect the Diet
Hall and to guard the environs of the palace; there was an interval of confusion; and on
the advance of a new regiment, which was mistaken for an attack, the mob who had
stormed the Diet Hall hurled the shattered furniture from the windows upon the
soldiers' heads. A volley was now fired, which cost several lives. At the sound of the
firing still deeper agitation seized the city. Barricades were erected, and the people and
soldiers fought hand to hand. As evening came on, deputation after deputation pressed
into the palace to urge concession upon the Government. Metternich, who, almost
alone in the Council, had made light of the popular uprising, now at length consented to
certain definite measures of reform. He retired into an adjoining room to draft an order
abolishing the censorship of the Press. During his absence the cry was raised among the
deputations that thronged the Council-chamber, "Down with Metternich!" The old man
returned, and found himself abandoned by his colleagues. There were some among
them, members of the Imperial family, who had long been his opponents; others who
had in vain urged him to make concessions before it was too late. Metternich saw that
the end of his career was come; he spoke a few words, marked by all the dignity and
self-possession of his greatest days, and withdrew, to place his resignation in the
Emperor's hands.
[Flight of Metternich.]
The action of the Hungarian Diet under Kossuth's leadership had powerfully influenced
the course of events at Vienna. The Viennese outbreak in its turn gave irresistible force
to the Hungarian national movement. Up to the 13th of March the Chamber of
Magnates had withheld their assent from the resolution passed by the Lower House in
favour of a national executive; they now accepted it without a single hostile vote; and
on the 15th a deputation was sent to Vienna to lay before the Emperor an address
demanding not only the establishment of a responsible Ministry but the freedom of the
Press, trial by jury, equality of religion, and a system of national education. At the
moment when this deputation reached Vienna the Government was formally
announcing its compliance with the popular demand for a Constitution for the whole of
the Empire. The Hungarians were escorted in triumph through the streets, and were
received on the following day by the Emperor himself, who expressed a general
concurrence with the terms of the address. The deputation returned to Presburg, and the
Palatine, or representative of the sovereign in Hungary, the Archduke Stephen,
forthwith charged Count Batthyány, one of the most popular of the Magyar nobles,
with the formation of a national Ministry. Thus far the Diet had been in the van of the
Hungarian movement; it now sank almost into insignificance by the side of the
revolutionary organisation at Pesth, where all the ardour and all the patriotism of the
Magyar race glowed in their native force untempered by the political experience of the
statesmen who were collected at Presburg, and unchecked by any of those influences
which belong to the neighbourhood of an Imperial Court. At Pesth there broke out an
agitation at once so democratic and so intensely national that all considerations of
policy and of regard for the Austrian Government which might have affected the action
of the Diet were swept away before it. Kossuth, himself the genuine representative of
the capital, became supreme. At his bidding the Diet passed a law abolishing the
departments of the Central Government by which the control of the Court over the
Hungarian body politic had been exercised. A list of Ministers was submitted and
approved, including not only those who were needed for the transaction of domestic
business, but Ministers of War, Finance, and Foreign Affairs; and in order that the
entire nation might rally round its Government, the peasantry were at one stroke
emancipated from all services attaching to the land, and converted into free proprietors.
Of the compensation to be paid to the lords for the loss of these services, no more was
said than that it was a debt of honour to be discharged by the nation.
Within the next few days the measures thus carried through the Diet by Kossuth were
presented for the Emperor's ratification at Vienna. The fall of Metternich, important as
it was, had not in reality produced that effect upon the Austrian Government which was
expected from it by popular opinion. The new Cabinet at Vienna was drawn from the
ranks of the official hierarchy; and although some of its members were more liberally
disposed than their late chief, they had all alike passed their lives in the traditions of the
ancient system, and were far from intending to make themselves the willing agents of
revolution. These men saw clearly enough that the action of the Diet at Presburg
amounted to nothing less than the separation of Hungary from the Austrian Empire.
With the Ministries of War, Finance, and Foreign Affairs established in independence
of the central government, there would remain no link between Hungary and the
Hereditary States but the person of a titular, and, for the present time, an imbecile
sovereign. Powerless and distracted, Metternich's successors looked in all directions for
counsel. The Palatine argued that three courses were open to the Austrian Government.
It might endeavour to crush the Hungarian movement by force of arms; for this
purpose, however, the troops available were insufficient: or it might withdraw from the
country altogether, leaving the peasants to attack the nobles, as they had done in
Galicia; this was a dishonourable policy, and the action of the Diet had, moreover,
secured to the peasant everything that he could gain by a social insurrection: or finally,
the Government might yield for the moment to the inevitable, make terms with
Batthyány's Ministry, and quietly prepare for vigorous resistance when opportunity
should arrive. The last method was that which the Palatine recommended; the Court
inclined in the same direction, but it was unwilling to submit without making some
further trial of the temper of its antagonists. A rescript was accordingly sent to
Presburg, announcing that the Ministry formed by Count Batthyány was accepted by
the Emperor, but that the central offices which the Diet had abolished must be
preserved, and the functions of the Ministers of War and Finance be reduced to those of
chiefs of departments, dependent on the orders of a higher authority at Vienna. From
the delay that had taken place in the despatch of this answer the nationalist leaders at
Pesth and at Presburg had augured no good result. Its publication brought the country
to the verge of armed revolt. Batthyány refused to accept office under the conditions
named; the Palatine himself declared that he could remain in Hungary no longer.
Terrified at the result of its own challenge, the Court now withdrew from the position
that it had taken up, and accepted the scheme of the Diet in its integrity, stipulating
only that the disposal of the army outside Hungary in time of war, and the appointment
to the higher commands, should remain with the Imperial Government. [413]
[Bohemian movement.]
[Autonomy promised.]
Hungary had thus made good its position as an independent State connected with
Austria only through the person of its monarch. Vast and momentous as was the
change, fatal as it might well appear to those who could conceive of no unity but the
unity of a central government, the victory of the Magyars appears to have excited no
feeling among the German Liberals at Vienna but one of satisfaction. So odious, so
detested, was the fallen system of despotism, that every victory won by its adversaries
was hailed as a triumph of the good cause, be the remoter issues what they might. Even
where a powerful German element, such as did not exist in Hungary itself, was
Thus far, if the authority of the Court of Vienna, had been virtually shaken off by a
great part of its subjects, the Emperor had at least not seen these subjects in avowed
rebellion against the House of Hapsburg, nor supported in their resistance by the arms
of a foreign Power. South of the Alps the dynastic connection was openly severed, and
the rule of Austria declared for ever at an end. Lombardy had since the beginning of the
year 1848 been held in check only by the display of great military force. The
Revolution at Paris had excited both hopes and fears; the Revolution at Vienna was
instantly followed by revolt in Milan. Radetzky, the Austrian commander, a veteran
who had served with honour in every campaign since that against the Turks in 1788,
had long foreseen the approach of an armed conflict; yet when the actual crisis arrived
his dispositions had not been made for meeting it. The troops in Milan were ill placed;
the offices of Government were moreover separated by half the breadth of the city from
the military head-quarters. Thus when on the 18th of March the insurrection broke out,
it carried everything before it. The Vice-Governor, O'Donell, was captured, and
compelled to sign his name to decrees handing over the government of the city to the
Municipal Council. Radetzky now threw his soldiers upon the barricades, and
penetrated to the centre of the city; but he was unable to maintain himself there under
the ceaseless fire from the windows and the housetops, and withdrew on the night of
the 19th to the line of fortifications. Fighting continued during the next two days in the
outskirts and at the gates of the city. The garrisons of all the neighbouring towns were
summoned to the assistance of their general, but the Italians broke up the bridges and
roads, and one detachment alone out of all the troops in Lombardy succeeded in
reaching Milan. A report now arrived at Radetzky's camp that the King of Piedmont
was on the march against him. Preferring the loss of Milan to the possible capture of
his army, he determined to evacuate the city. On the night of the 22nd of March the
retreat was begun, and Radetzky fell back upon the Mincio and Verona, which he
himself had made the centre of the Austrian system of defence in Upper Italy. [414]
[Insurrection of Venice.]
Venice had already followed the example of the Lombard capital. The tidings received
from Vienna after the 13th of March appear to have completely bewildered both the
military and the civil authorities on the Adriatic coast. They released their political
prisoners, among whom was Daniel Manin, an able and determined foe of Austria; they
entered into constitutional discussions with the popular leaders; they permitted the
formation of a national guard, and finally handed over to this guard the arsenals and the
dockyards with all their stores. From this time all was over. Manin proclaimed the
Republic of St. Mark, and became the chief of a Provisional Government. The Italian
regiments in garrison joined the national cause; the ships of war at Pola, manned
chiefly by Italian sailors, were only prevented from sailing to the assistance of the
rebels by batteries that were levelled against them from the shore. Thus without a blow
being struck Venice was lost to Austria. The insurrection spread westwards and
northwards through city and village in the interior, till there remained to Austria
nothing but the fortresses on the Adige and the Mincio, where Radetzky, deaf to the
counsels of timidity, held his ground unshaken. The national rising carried Piedmont
with it. It was in vain that the British envoy at Turin urged the King to enter into no
conflict with Austria. On the 24th of March Charles Albert published a proclamation
promising his help to the Lombards. Two days later his troops entered Milan. [415]
Austria had for thirty years consistently laid down the principle that its own
sovereignty in Upper Italy vested it with the right to control the political system of
every other State in the peninsula. It had twice enforced this principle by arms: first in
its intervention in Naples in 1820, afterwards in its occupation of the Roman States in
1831. The Government of Vienna had, as it were with fixed intention, made it
impossible that its presence in any part of Italy should be regarded as the presence of
an ordinary neighbour, entitled to quiet possession until some new provocation should
be given. The Italians would have proved themselves the simplest of mankind if,
having any reasonable hope of military success, they had listened to the counsels of
Palmerston and other statesmen who urged them not to take advantage of the
difficulties in which Austria was now placed. The paralysis of the Austrian State was
indeed the one unanswerable argument for immediate war. So long as the Emperor
retained his ascendency in any part of Italy, his interests could not permanently suffer
the independence of the rest. If the Italians should chivalrously wait until the Cabinet of
Vienna had recovered its strength, it was quite certain that their next efforts in the
cause of internal liberty would be as ruthlessly crushed as their last. Every clearsighted
patriot understood that the time for a great national effort had arrived. In some respects
the political condition of Italy seemed favourable to such united action. Since the
insurrection of Palermo in January, 1848, absolutism had everywhere fallen. Ministries
had come into existence containing at least a fair proportion of men who were in real
sympathy with the national feeling. Above all, the Pope seemed disposed to place
himself at the head of a patriotic union against the foreigner. Thus, whatever might be
the secret inclinations of the reigning Houses, they were unable for the moment to
Austria had with one hand held down Italy, with the other it had weighed on Germany.
Though the Revolutionary movement was in full course on the east of the Rhine before
Metternich's fall, it received, especially at Berlin, a great impetus from this event. Since
the beginning of March the Prussian capital had worn an unwonted aspect. In this city
of military discipline public meetings had been held day after day, and the streets had
been blocked by excited crowds. Deputations which laid before the King demands
similar to those now made in every German town received halting and evasive answers.
Excitement increased, and on the 13th of March encounters began between the citizens
and the troops, which, though insignificant, served to exasperate the people and its
leaders. The King appeared to be wavering between resistance and concession until the
Revolution at Vienna, which became known at Berlin on the 15th of March, brought
affairs to their crisis. On the 17th the tumult in the streets suddenly ceased; it was
understood that the following day would see the Government either reconciled with the
people or forced to deal with an insurrection on a great scale. Accordingly on the
morning of the 18th crowds made their way towards the palace, which was surrounded
by troops. About midday there appeared a Royal edict summoning the Prussian United
Diet for the 2nd of April, and announcing that the King had determined to promote the
creation of a Parliament for all Germany and the establishment of Constitutional
Government in every German State. This manifesto drew fresh masses towards the
palace, desirous, it would seem, to express their satisfaction; its contents, however,
were imperfectly understood by the assembly already in front of the palace, which the
King vainly attempted to address. When called upon to disperse, the multitude refused
to do so, and answered by cries for the withdrawal of the soldiery. In the midst of the
confusion two shots were fired from the ranks without orders; a panic followed, in
which, for no known reason, the cavalry and infantry threw themselves upon the
people. The crowd was immediately put to flight, but the combat was taken up by the
population of Berlin. Barricades appeared in the streets; fighting continued during the
evening and night. Meanwhile the King, who was shocked and distressed at the course
that events had taken, received deputations begging that the troops might be withdrawn
from the city. Frederick William endeavoured for awhile to make the surrender of the
barricades the condition for an armistice; but as night went on the troops became
exhausted, and although they had gained ground, the resistance of the people was not
overcome. Whether doubtful of the ultimate issue of the conflict or unwilling to permit
further bloodshed, the King gave way, and at daybreak on the 19th ordered the troops
to be withdrawn. His intention was that they should continue to garrison the palace, but
the order was misunderstood, and the troops were removed to the outside of Berlin.
The conflict between the troops and the people at Berlin was described, and with truth,
as the result of a misunderstanding. Frederick William had already determined to yield
to the principal demands of his subjects; nor on the part of the inhabitants of Berlin had
there existed any general hostility towards the sovereign, although a small group of
agitators, in part foreign, had probably sought to bring about an armed attack on the
throne. Accordingly, when once the combat was broken off, there seemed to be no
important obstacle to a reconciliation between the King and the people. Frederick
William chose a course which spared and even gratified his own self-love. In the
political faith of all German Liberals the establishment of German unity was now an
even more important article than the introduction of free institutions into each
particular State. The Revolution at Berlin had indeed been occasioned by the King's
delay in granting internal reform; but these domestic disputes might well be forgotten if
in the great cause of German unity the Prussians saw their King rising to the needs of
the hour. Accordingly the first resolution of Frederick William, after quiet had returned
to the capital, was to appear in public state as the champion of the Fatherland. A
proclamation announced on the morning of the 21st of March that the King had placed
himself at the head of the German nation, and that he would on that day appear on
horseback wearing the old German colours. In due time Frederick William came forth
at the head of a procession, wearing the tricolor of gold, white, and black, which since
1815 had been so dear to the patriots and so odious to the Governments of Germany.
As he passed through the streets he was saluted as Emperor, but he repudiated the title,
asserting with oaths and imprecations that he intended to rob no German prince of his
sovereignty. At each stage of his theatrical progress he repeated to appropriate auditors
his sounding but ambiguous allusions to the duties imposed upon him by the common
danger. A manifesto, published at the close of the day, summed up the utterances of the
monarch in a somewhat less rhetorical form. "Germany is in ferment within, and
exposed from without to danger from more than one side. Deliverance from this danger
can come only from the most intimate union of the German princes and people under a
single leadership. I take this leadership upon me for the hour of peril. I have to-day
assumed the old German colours, and placed myself and my people under the
venerable banner of the German Empire. Prussia henceforth is merged in Germany."
[418]
The ride of the King through Berlin, and his assumption of the character of German
leader, however little it pleased the minor sovereigns, or gratified the Liberals of the
smaller States, who considered that such National authority ought to be conferred by
the nation, not assumed by a prince, was successful for the moment in restoring to the
King some popularity among his own subjects. He could now without humiliation
proceed with the concessions which had been interrupted by the tragical events of the
18th of March. In answer to a deputation from Breslau, which urged that the Chamber
formed by the union of the Provincial Diets should be replaced by a Constituent
Assembly, the King promised that a national Representative Assembly should be
[Schleswig-Holstein.]
In the passage of his address in which King Frederick William spoke of the external
dangers threatening Germany, he referred to apprehensions which had for a while been
current that the second French Republic would revive the aggressive energy of the first.
This fear proved baseless; nevertheless, for a sovereign who really intended to act as
the champion of the German nation at large, the probability of war with a neighbouring
Power was far from remote. The cause of the Duchies of Schleswig-Holstein, which
were in rebellion against the Danish Crown, excited the utmost interest and sympathy
in Germany. The population of these provinces, with the exception of certain districts
in Schleswig, was German; Holstein was actually a member of the German Federation.
The legal relation of the Duchies to Denmark was, according to the popular view, very
nearly that of Hanover to England before 1837. The King of Denmark was also Duke
of Schleswig and of Holstein, but these were no more an integral portion of the Danish
State than Hanover was of the British Empire; and the laws of succession were
moreover different in Schleswig-Holstein, the Crown being transmitted by males, while
in Denmark females were capable of succession. On the part of the Danes it was
admitted that in certain districts in Holstein the Salic law held good; it was, however,
maintained that in the remainder of Holstein and in all Schleswig the rules of
succession were the same as in Denmark. The Danish Government denied that
Schleswig-Holstein formed a unity in itself, as alleged by the Germans, and that it
possessed separate national rights as against the authority of the King's Government at
Copenhagen. The real heart of the difficulty lay in the fact that the population of the
Duchies was German. So long as the Germans as a race possessed no national feeling,
the union of the Duchies with the Danish Monarchy had not been felt as a grievance. It
happened, however, that the great revival of German patriotism resulting from the War
of Liberation in 1813 was almost simultaneous with the severance of Norway from the
Danish Crown, which compelled the Government of Copenhagen to increase very
heavily the burdens imposed on its German subjects in the Duchies. From this time
discontent gained ground, especially in Altona and Kiel, where society was as
thoroughly German as in the neighbouring city of Hamburg. After 1830, when
Provincial Estates were established in Schleswig and Holstein, the German movement
became formidable. The reaction, however, which marked the succeeding period
generally in Europe prevailed in Denmark too, and it was not until 1844, when a
posthumous work of Lornsen, the exiled leader of the German party, vindicated the
historical rights of the Duchies, that the claims of German nationality in these
Such was the situation of affairs when, on the 20th of January, 1848, King Christian
VIII. died, leaving the throne to Frederick VII., the last of the male line of his House.
Frederick's first act was to publish the draft of a Constitution, in which all parts of the
Monarchy were treated as on the same footing. Before the delegates could assemble to
whom the completion of this work was referred, the shock of the Paris Revolution
reached the North Sea ports. A public meeting at Altona demanded the establishment
of a separate constitution for Schleswig-Holstein, and the admission of Schleswig into
the German Federation. The Provincial Estates accepted this resolution, and sent a
deputation to Copenhagen to present this and other demands to the King. But in the
course of the next few days a popular movement at Copenhagen brought into power a
thoroughly Danish Ministry, pledged to the incorporation of Schleswig with Denmark
as an integral part of the Kingdom. Without waiting to learn the answer made by the
King to the deputation, the Holsteiners now took affairs into their own hands. A
Provisional Government was formed at Kiel (March 24), the troops joined the people,
and the insurrection instantly spread over the whole province. As the proposal to
change the law of succession to the throne had originated with the King of Denmark,
the cause of the Holsteiners was from one point of view that of established right. The
King of Prussia, accepting the positions laid down by the Holstein Estates in 1844,
declared that he would defend the claims of the legitimate heir by force of arms, and
ordered his troops to enter Holstein. The Diet of Frankfort, now forced to express the
universal will of Germany, demanded that Schleswig, as the sister State of Holstein,
should enter the Federation. On the passing of this resolution, the envoy who
represented the Denmark. King of Denmark at the Diet, as Duke of Holstein, quitted
Frankfort, and a state of war ensued between Denmark on the one side and Prussia with
the German Federation on the other.
The passionate impulse of the German people towards unity had already called into
being an organ for the expression of national sentiment, which, if without any legal or
constitutional authority, was yet strong enough to impose its will upon the old and
discredited Federal Diet and upon most of the surviving Governments. At the invitation
of a Committee, about five hundred Liberals who had in one form or another taken part
in public affairs assembled at Frankfort on the 30th of March to make the necessary
preparations for the meeting of a German national Parliament. This Assembly, which is
known as the Ante-Parliament, sat but for five days. Its resolutions, so far as regarded
the method of electing the new Parliament, and the inclusion of new districts in the
German Federation, were accepted by the Diet, and in the main carried into effect. Its
denunciation of persons concerned in the repressive measures of 1819 and subsequent
reactionary epochs was followed by the immediate retirement of all members of the
Diet whose careers dated back to those detested days. But in the most important work
that was expected from the Ante-Parliament, the settlement of a draft-Constitution to be
laid before the future National Assembly as a basis for its deliberations, nothing
whatever was accomplished. The debates that took place from the 31st of March to the
4th of April were little more than a trial of strength between the Monarchical and
Republican parties. The Republicans, far outnumbered when they submitted a
constitutional scheme of their own, proposed, after this repulse, that the existing
Assembly should continue in session until the National Parliament met; in other words,
that it should take upon itself the functions and character of a National Convention.
Defeated also on this proposal, the leaders of the extreme section of the Republican
party, strangely miscalculating their real strength, determined on armed insurrection.
Uniting with a body of German refugees beyond the Rhine, who were themselves
assisted by French and Polish soldiers of revolution, they raised the Republican
standard in Baden, and for a few days maintained a hopeless and inglorious struggle
against the troops which were sent to suppress them. Even in Baden, which had long
been in advance of all other German States in democratic sentiment, and which was
peculiarly open to Republican influences from France and Switzerland, the movement
was not seriously supported by the population, and in the remainder of Germany it
received no countenance whatever. The leaders found themselves ruined men. The best
of them fled to the United States, where, in the great struggle against slavery thirteen
years later, they rendered better service to their adopted than they had ever rendered to
their natural Fatherland.
At this point the first act in the Revolutionary drama of 1848 in Germany, as in Europe
generally, may be considered to have reached its close. A certain unity marks the
memorable epoch known generally as the March Days and the events immediately
succeeding. Revolution is universal; it scarcely meets with resistance; its views seem
on the point of being achieved; the baffled aspirations of the last half-century seem on
the point of being fulfilled. There exists no longer in Central Europe such a thing as an
autocratic Government; and, while the French Republic maintains an unexpected
attitude of peace, Germany and Italy, under the leadership of old dynasties now
penetrated with a new spirit, appear to be on the point of achieving each its own work
of Federal union and of the expulsion of the foreigner from its national soil. All Italy
prepares to move under Charles Albert to force the Austrians from their last
strongholds on the Mincio and the Adige; all Germany is with the troops of Frederick
William of Prussia as they enter Holstein to rescue this and the neighbouring German
province from the Dane. In Radetzky's camp alone, and at the Court of St. Petersburg,
the old monarchical order of Europe still survives. How powerful were these two
isolated centres of anti-popular energy the world was soon to see. Yet they would not
have turned back the tide of European affairs and given one more victory to reaction
had they not had their allies in the hatred of race to race, in the incapacity and the errors
of peoples and those who represented them; above all, in the enormous difficulties
which, even had the generation been one of sages and martyrs, the political
circumstances of the time would in themselves have opposed to the accomplishment of
the ends desired.
France had given to Central Europe the signal for the Revolution of 1848, and it was in
France, where the conflict was not one for national independence but for political and
social interests, that the Revolution most rapidly ran its course and first exhausted its
powers. On the flight of Louis Philippe authority had been entrusted by the Chamber of
Deputies to a Provisional Government, whose most prominent member was the orator
and poet Lamartine. Installed at the Hôtel de Ville, this Government had with difficulty
prevented the mob from substituting the Red Flag for the Tricolor, and from
proceeding at once to realise the plans of its own leaders. The majority of the
Provisional Government were Republicans of a moderate type, representing the ideas
of the urban middle classes rather than those of the workmen; but by their side were
Ledru Rollin, a rhetorician dominated by the phrases of 1793, and Louis Blanc, who
considered all political change as but an instrument for advancing the organisation of
labour and for the emancipation of the artisan from servitude, by the establishment of
State-directed industries affording appropriate employment and adequate remuneration
to all. Among the first proclamations of the Provisional Government was one in which,
in answer to a petition demanding the recognition of the Right to Labour, they
undertook to guarantee employment to every citizen. This engagement, the heaviest
perhaps that was ever voluntarily assumed by any Government, was followed in a few
days by the opening of national workshops. That in the midst of a Revolution which
took all parties by surprise plans for the conduct of a series of industrial enterprises by
the State should have been seriously examined was impossible. The Government had
paid homage to an abstract idea; they were without a conception of the mode in which
it was to be realised. What articles were to be made, what works were to be executed,
no one knew. The mere direction of destitute workmen to the centres where they were
to be employed was a task for which a new branch of the administration had to be
created. When this was achieved, the men collected proved useless for all purposes of
industry. Their numbers increased enormously, rising in the course of four weeks from
fourteen to sixty-five thousand. The Revolution had itself caused a financial and
commercial panic, interrupting all the ordinary occupations of business, and depriving
masses of men of the means of earning a livelihood. These, with others who had no
intention of working, thronged to the State workshops; while the certainty of obtaining
wages from the public purse occasioned a series of strikes of workmen against their
employers and the abandonment of private factories. The chocks which had been
intended to confine enrolment at the public works to persons already domiciled in Paris
completely failed; from all the neighbouring departments the idle and the hungry
streamed into the capital. Every abuse incidental to a system of public relief was
present in Paris in its most exaggerated form; every element of experience, of wisdom,
of precaution, was absent. If, instead of a group of benevolent theorists, the experiment
of 1848 had had for its authors a company of millionaires anxious to dispel all hope
that mankind might ever rise to a higher order than that of unrestricted competition of
man against man, it could not have been conducted under more fatal conditions. [421]
The leaders of the democracy in Paris had from the first considered that the decision
upon the form of Government to be established in France in place of the Orleanist
monarchy belonged rather to themselves than to the nation at large. They distrusted,
and with good reason, the results of the General Election which, by a decree of the
Provisional Government, was to be held in the course of April. A circular issued by
Ledru Rollin, Minister of the Interior, without the knowledge of his colleagues, to the
Commissioners by whom he had replaced the Prefects of the Monarchy gave the first
open indication of this alarm, and of the means of violence and intimidation by which
the party which Ledru Rollin represented hoped to impose its will upon the country.
The Commissioners were informed in plain language that, as agents of a revolutionary
authority, their powers were unlimited, and that their task was to exclude from election
all persons who were not animated by revolutionary spirit, and pure from any taint of
association with the past. If the circular had been the work of the Government, and not
of a single member of it who was at variance with most of his colleagues and whose
words were far more formidable than his actions, it would have clearly foreshadowed a
return to the system of 1793. But the isolation of Ledru Rollin was well understood.
The attitude of the Government generally was so little in accordance with the views of
the Red Republicans that on the 16th of April a demonstration was organised with the
object of compelling them to postpone the elections. The prompt appearance in arms of
the National Guard, which still represented the middle classes of Paris, baffled the
design of the leaders of the mob, and gave to Lamartine and the majority in the
Government a decisive victory over their revolutionary colleague. The elections were
held at the time appointed; and, in spite of the institution of universal suffrage, they
resulted in the return of a body of Deputies not widely different from those who had
hitherto appeared in French Parliaments. The great majority were indeed Republicans
by profession, but of a moderate type; and the session had no sooner opened than it
became clear that the relation between the Socialist democracy of Paris and the
National Representatives could only be one of more or less violent antagonism.
The first act of the Assembly, which met on the 4th of May, was to declare that the
Provisional Government had deserved well of the country, and to reinstate most of its
members in office under the title of an Executive Commission. Ledru Rollin's offences
were condoned, as those of a man popular with the democracy, and likely on the whole
to yield to the influence of his colleagues. Louis Blanc and his confederate, Albert, as
really dangerous persons, were excluded. The Jacobin leaders now proceeded to
organise an attack on the Assembly by main force. On the 15th of May the attempt was
made. Under pretence of tendering a petition on behalf of Poland, a mob invaded the
Legislative Chamber, declared the Assembly dissolved, and put the Deputies to flight.
The publication of this order was the signal for an appeal to arms. The legions of the
national workshops were in themselves a half-organised force equal in number to
several army-corps, and now animated by something like the spirit of military union.
The revolt, which began on the morning of the 23rd of June, was conducted as no
revolt in Pans had ever been conducted before. The eastern part of the city was turned
into a maze of barricades. Though the insurgents had not artillery, they were in other
respects fairly armed. The terrible nature of the conflict impending now became
evident to the Assembly. General Cavaignac, Minister of War, was placed in
command, and subsequently invested with supreme authority, the Executive
Commission resigning its powers. All the troops in the neighbourhood of Paris were at
once summoned to the capital, Cavaignac well understood that any attempt to hold the
insurrection in check by means of scattered posts would only end, as in 1830, by the
capture or the demoralisation of the troops. He treated Paris as one great battle-field in
which the enemy must be attacked in mass and driven by main force from all his
positions. At times the effort appeared almost beyond the power of the forces engaged,
and the insurgents, sheltered by huge barricades and firing from the windows of
houses, seemed likely to remain masters of the field. The struggle continued for four
days, but Cavaignac's artillery and the discipline of his troops at last crushed resistance;
and after the Archbishop of Paris had been mortally wounded in a heroic effort to stop
further bloodshed, the last bands of the insurgents, driven back into the north-eastern
quarter of the city, and there attacked with artillery in front and flank, were forced to
lay down their arms.
Such was the conflict of the Four Days of June, a conflict memorable as one in which
the combatants fought not for a political principle or form of Government, but for the
preservation or the overthrow of society based on the institution of private property.
The National Guard, with some exceptions, fought side by side with the regiments of
the line, braved the same perils, and sustained an equal loss. The workmen threw
themselves the more passionately into the struggle, inasmuch as defeat threatened them
with deprivation of the very means of life. On both sides acts of savagery were
committed which the fury of the conflict could not excuse. The vengeance of the
conquerors in the moment of success appears, however, to have been less unrelenting
than that which followed the overthrow of the Commune in 1871, though, after the
struggle was over, the Assembly had no scruple in transporting without trial the whole
mass of prisoners taken with arms in their hands. Cavaignac's victory left the classes
for whom he had fought terror-stricken at the peril from which they had escaped, and
almost hopeless of their own security under any popular form of Government in the
future. Against the rash and weak concessions to popular demands that had been made
by the administration since February, especially in the matter of taxation and finance,
there was now a deep, if not loudly proclaimed, reaction. The national workshops
disappeared; grants were made by the Legislature for the assistance of the masses who
were left without resource, but the money was bestowed in charitable relief or in the
form of loans to associations, not as wages from the State. On every side among the
holders of property the cry was for a return to sound principles of finance in the
economy of the State, and for the establishment of a strong central power.
General Cavaignac after the restoration of order had laid down the supreme authority
which had been conferred on him, but at the desire of the Assembly he continued to
exercise it until the new Constitution should be drawn up and an Executive appointed
in accordance with its provisions. Events had suddenly raised Cavaignac from
obscurity to eminence, and seemed to mark him out as the future ruler of France. But
he displayed during the six months following the suppression of the revolt no great
capacity for government, and his virtues as well as his defects made against his
personal success. A sincere Republican, while at the same time a rigid upholder of law,
he refused to lend himself to those who were, except in name, enemies of
Republicanism; and in his official acts and utterances he spared the feelings of the
reactionary classes as little as he would have spared those of rioters and Socialists. As
the influence of Cavaignac declined, another name began to fill men's thoughts. Louis
Napoleon, son of the Emperor's brother Louis, King of Holland, had while still in exile
been elected to the National Assembly by four Departments. He was as yet almost
unknown except by name to his fellow-countrymen. Born in the Tuileries in 1808, he
had been involved as a child in the ruin of the Empire, and had passed into banishment
with his mother Hortense, under the law that expelled from France all members of
Napoleon's family. He had been brought up at Augsburg and on the shores of the Lake
of Constance, and as a volunteer in a Swiss camp of artillery he had gained some little
From this time Louis Napoleon was a recognised aspirant to power. The Constitution
of the Republic was now being drawn up by the Assembly. The Executive Commission
had disappeared in the convulsion of June; Cavaignac was holding the balance between
parties rather than governing himself. In the midst of the debates on the Constitution
Louis Napoleon was again returned elected, to the Assembly by the votes of five
Departments. He saw that he ought to remain no longer in the background, and,
accepting the call of the electors, he took his seat in the Chamber. It was clear that he
CHAPTER XX.
The plain of Northern Italy has ever been an arena on which the contest between
interests greater than those of Italy itself has been brought to an issue, and it may
perhaps be truly said that in the struggle between established Governments and
Revolution through out Central Europe in 1848 the real turning point, if it can
anywhere be fixed, lay rather in the fortunes of a campaign in Lombardy than in any
single combination of events at Vienna or Berlin. The very existence of the Austrian
Monarchy depended on the victory of Radetzky's forces over the national movement at
the head of which Piedmont had now placed itself. If Italian independence should be
established upon the ruin of the Austrian arms, and the influence and example of the
victorious Italian people be thrown into the scale against the Imperial Government in
its struggle with the separatist forces that convulsed every part of the Austrian
dominions, it was scarcely possible that any stroke of fortune or policy could save the
Empire of the Hapsburgs from dissolution. But on the prostration or recovery of
Austria, as represented by its central power at Vienna, the future of Germany in great
part depended. Whatever compromise might be effected between popular and
monarchical forces in the other German States if left free from Austria's interference,
the whole influence of a resurgent Austrian power could not but be directed against the
principles of popular sovereignty and national union. The Parliament of Frankfort
might then in vain affect to fulfil its mandate without reckoning with the Court of
Vienna. All this was indeed obscured in the tempests that for a while shut out the
political horizon. The Liberals of Northern Germany had little sympathy with the
Italian cause in the decisive days of 1848. Their inclinations went rather with the
combatant who, though bent on maintaining an oppressive dominion, was nevertheless
a member of the German race and paid homage for the moment to Constitutional rights.
Yet, as later events were to prove, the fetters which crushed liberty beyond the Alps
could fit as closely on to German limbs; and in the warfare of Upper Italy for its own
freedom the battle of German Liberalism was in no small measure fought and lost.
Metternich once banished from Vienna, the first popular demand was for a
Constitution. His successors in office, with a certain characteristic pedantry, devoted
their studies to the Belgian Constitution of 1831; and after some weeks a Constitution
was published by edict for the non-Hungarian part of the Empire, including a
Parliament of two Chambers, the Lower to be chosen by indirect election, the Upper
consisting of nominees of the Crown and representatives of the great landowners. The
provisions of this Constitution in favour of the Crown and the Aristocracy, as well as
the arbitrary mode of its promulgation, displeased the Viennese. Agitation
recommenced in the city; unpopular officials were roughly handled the Press grew ever
more violent and more scurrilous. One strange result of the tutelage in which Austrian
society had been held was that the students of the University became, and for some
time continued to be, the most important political body of the capital. Their principal
rivals in influence were the National Guard drawn from citizens of the middle class, the
workmen as yet remaining in the background. Neither in the Hall of the University nor
at the taverns where the civic militia discussed the events of the hour did the
office-drawn Constitution find favour. On the 13th of May it was determined, with the
view of exercising stronger pressure upon the Government, that the existing
committees of the National Guard and of the students should be superseded by one
central committee representing both bodies. The elections to this committee had been
held, and its sittings had begun, when the commander of the National Guard declared
such proceedings to be inconsistent with military discipline, and ordered the dissolution
of the committee. Riots followed, during which the students and the mob made their
way into the Emperor's palace and demanded from his Ministers not only the
re-establishment of the central committee but the abolition of the Upper Chamber in the
projected Constitution, and the removal of the checks imposed on popular sovereignty
by a limited franchise and the system of indirect elections. On point after point the
Ministry gave way; and, in spite of the resistance and reproaches of the Imperial
household, they obtained the Emperor's signature to a document promising that for the
future all the important military posts in the city should be held by the National Guard
jointly with the regular troops, that the latter should never be called out except on the
requisition of the National Guard, and that the projected Constitution should remain
without force until it should have been submitted for confirmation to a single
Constituent Assembly elected by universal suffrage.
The weakness of the Emperor's intelligence rendered him a mere puppet in the hands of
those who for the moment exercised control over his actions. During the riot of the
15th of May he obeyed his Ministers; a few hours afterwards he fell under the sway of
the Court party, and consented to fly from Vienna. On the 18th the Viennese learnt to
their astonishment that Ferdinand was far on the road to the Tyrol. Soon afterwards a
manifesto was published, stating that the violence and anarchy of the capital had
compelled the Emperor to transfer his residence to Innsbruck; that he remained true,
however, to the promises made in March and to their legitimate consequences; and that
proof must be given of the return of the Viennese to their old sentiments of loyalty
before he could again appear among them. A certain revulsion of feeling in the
Emperor's favour now became manifest in the capital, and emboldened the Ministers to
In the meantime the antagonism between the Czechs and the Germans in Bohemia was
daily becoming more bitter. The influence of the party of compromise, which had been
dominant in the early days of March, had disappeared before the ill-timed attempt of
the German national leaders at Frankfort to include Bohemia within the territory
sending representatives to the German national Parliament. By consenting to this
incorporation the Czech population would have definitely renounced its newly asserted
claim to nationality. If the growth of democratic spirit at Vienna was accompanied by a
more intense German national feeling in the capital, the popular movements at Vienna
and at Prague must necessarily pass into a relation of conflict with one another. On the
flight of the Emperor becoming known at Prague, Count Thun, the governor, who was
also the chief of the moderate Bohemian party, invited Ferdinand to make Prague the
seat of his Government. This invitation, which would have directly connected the
Crown with Czech national interests, was not accepted. The rasher politicians, chiefly
students and workmen, continued to hold their meetings and to patrol the streets; and a
Congress of Slavs from all parts of the Empire, which was opened on the 2nd of June,
excited national passions still further. So threatening grew the attitude of the students
and workmen that Count Windischgrätz, commander of the troops at Prague, prepared
to act with artillery. On the 12th of June, the day on which the Congress of Slavs broke
up, fighting began. Windischgrätz, whose wife was killed by a bullet, appears to have
acted with calmness, and to have sought to arrive at some peaceful settlement. He
withdrew his troops, and desisted from a bombardment that he had begun, on the
understanding that the barricades which had been erected should be removed. This
condition was not fulfilled. New acts of violence occurred in the city, and on the 17th
Windischgrätz reopened fire. On the following day Prague surrendered, and
Windischgrätz re-entered the city as Dictator. The autonomy of Bohemia was at an end.
The army had for the first time acted with effect against a popular rising; the first blow
had been struck on behalf of the central power against the revolution which till now
had seemed about to dissolve the Austrian State into its fragments.
[Naples in May.]
A pause in the war ensued, filled by political events of evil omen for Italy. Of all the
princes who had permitted their troops to march northwards to the assistance of the
Lombards, not one was acting in full sincerity. The first to show himself in his true
colours was the Pope. On the 29th of April an Allocution was addressed to the
Cardinals, in which Pius disavowed all participation in the war against Austria, and
declared that his own troops should do no more than defend the integrity of the Roman
States. Though at the moment an outburst of popular indignation in Rome forced a still
more liberal Ministry into power, and Durando, the Papal general, continued his
advance into Venetia, the Pope's renunciation of his supposed national leadership
produced the effect which its author desired, encouraging every open and every secret
enemy of the Italian cause, and perplexing those who had believed themselves to be
engaged in a sacred as well as a patriotic war. In Naples things hurried far more rapidly
to a catastrophe. Elections had been held to the Chamber of Deputies, which was to be
opened on the 15th of May, and most of the members returned were men who, while
devoted to the Italian national cause were neither Republicans nor enemies of the
Bourbon dynasty, but anxious to co-operate with their King in the work of
Constitutional reform. Politicians of another character, however, commanded the
streets of Naples. Rumours were spread that the Court was on the point of restoring
despotic government and abandoning the Italian cause. Disorder and agitation
increased from day to day; and after the Deputies had arrived in the city and begun a
series of informal meetings preparatory to the opening of the Parliament, an ill-advised
act of Ferdinand gave to the party of disorder, who were weakly represented in the
Assembly, occasion for an insurrection. After promulgating the Constitution on
February both, Ferdinand had agreed that it should be submitted to the two Chambers
for revision. He notified, however, to the Representatives on the eve of the opening of
Parliament that they would be required to take an oath of fidelity to the Constitution.
They urged that such an oath would deprive them of their right of revision. The King,
after some hours, consented to a change in the formula of the oath; but his demand had
already thrown the city into tumult. Barricades were erected, the Deputies in vain
[Negotiations as to Lombardy.]
It thus became clear before the end of May that the Lombards would receive no
considerable help from the Southern States in their struggle for freedom, and that the
promised league of the Governments in the national cause was but a dream from which
there was a bitter awakening. Nor in Northern Italy itself was there the unity in aim and
action without which success was impossible. The Republican party accused the King
and the Provisional Government at Milan of an unwillingness to arm the people;
Charles Albert on his part regarded every Republican as an enemy. On entering
Lombardy the King had stated that no question as to the political organisation of the
future should be raised until the war was ended; nevertheless, before a fortress had
been captured, he had allowed Modena and Parma to declare themselves incorporated
with the Piedmontese monarchy; and, in spite of Mazzini's protest, their example was
followed by Lombardy and some Venetian districts. In the recriminations that passed
between the Republicans and the Monarchists it was even suggested that Austria had
friends of its own in certain classes of the population. This was not the view taken by
the Viennese Government, which from the first appears to have considered its cause in
Lombardy as virtually lost. The mediation of Great Britain was invoked by
Metternich's successors, and a willingness expressed to grant to the Italian provinces
complete autonomy under the Emperor's sceptre. Palmerston, in reply to the
supplications of a Court which had hitherto cursed his influence, urged that Lombardy
and the greater part of Venetia should be ceded to the King of Piedmont. The Austrian
Government would have given up Lombardy to their enemy; they hesitated to increase
his power to the extent demanded by Palmerston, the more so as the French Ministry
was known to be jealous of the aggrandisement of Sardinia, and to desire the
establishment of weak Republics like those formed in 1796. Withdrawing from its
negotiations at London, the Emperor's Cabinet now entered into direct communication
with the Provisional Government at Milan, and, without making any reference to
Piedmont or Venice, offered complete independence to Lombardy. As the union of this
province with Piedmont had already been voted by its inhabitants, the offer was at once
rejected. Moreover, even it the Italians had shown a disposition to compromise their
cause and abandon Venice, Radetzky would not have broken off the combat while any
possibility remained of winning over the Emperor from the side of the peace-party. In
reply to instructions directing him to offer an armistice to the enemy, he sent Prince
Felix Schwarzenberg to Innsbruck to implore the Emperor to trust to the valour of his
soldiers and to continue the combat. Already there were signs that the victory would
ultimately be with Austria. Reinforcements had cut their way through the insurgent
Charles Albert now renewed his attempt to wrest the central fortresses from the
Austrians. Leaving half his army at Peschiera and farther north, he proceeded with the
other half to blockade Mantua. Radetzky took advantage of the unskilful generalship of
his opponent, and threw himself upon the weakly guarded centre of the long Sardinian
line. The King perceived his error, and sought to unite with his the northern
detachments, now separated from him by the Mincio. His efforts were baffled, and on
the 25th of July, after a brave resistance, his troops were defeated at Custozza. The
retreat across the Mincio was conducted in fair order, but disasters sustained by the
northern division, which should have held the enemy in check, destroyed all hope, and
the retreat then became a flight. Radetzky followed in close pursuit. Charles Albert
entered Milan, but declared himself unable to defend the city. A storm of indignation
broke out against the unhappy King amongst the Milanese, whom he was declared to
have betrayed. The palace where he had taken up his quarters was besieged by the mob;
his life was threatened; and he escaped with difficulty on the night of August 5th under
the protection of General La Marmora and a few faithful Guards. A capitulation was
signed, and as the Piedmontese army evacuated the city Radetzky's troops entered it in
triumph. Not less than sixty thousand of the inhabitants, according to Italian statements,
abandoned their homes and sought refuge in Switzerland or Piedmont rather than
submit to the conqueror's rule. Radetzky could now have followed his retreating enemy
without difficulty to Turin, and have crushed Piedmont itself under foot; but the fear of
France and Great Britain checked his career of victory, and hostilities were brought to a
close by an armistice at Vigevano on August 9th. [427]
The effects of Radetzky's triumph were felt in every province of the Empire. The first
open expression given to the changed state of affairs was the return of the Imperial
Court from its refuge at Innsbruck to Vienna. The election promised in May had been
held, and an Assembly representing all the non-Hungarian parts of the Monarchy, with
the exception of the Italian provinces, had been opened by the Archduke John, as
representative of the Emperor, on the 22nd of July. Ministers and Deputies united in
demanding the return of the Emperor to the capital. With Radetzky and Windischgrätz
within call, the Emperor could now with some confidence face his students and his
In one of the stormy sessions of the Hungarian Diet at the time when the attempt was
first made to impose the Magyar language upon Croatia the Illyrian leader, Gai, had
thus addressed the Assembly: "You Magyars are an island in the ocean of Slavism.
Take heed that its waves do not rise and overwhelm you." The agitation of the spring of
1848 first revealed in its full extent the peril thus foreshadowed. Croatia had for above
a year been in almost open mutiny, but the spirit of revolt now spread through the
whole of the Serb population of Southern Hungary, from the eastern limits of Slavonia,
[428] across the plain known as the Banat beyond the junction of the Theiss and the
Danube, up to the borders of Transylvania. The Serbs had been welcomed into these
provinces in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries by the sovereigns of Austria as a
bulwark against the Turks. Charters had been given to them, which were still
preserved, promising them a distinct political administration under their own elected
Voivode, and ecclesiastical independence under their own Patriarch of the Greek
Church. [429] These provincial rights had fared much as others in the Austrian Empire.
The Patriarch and the Voivode had disappeared, and the Banat had been completely
merged in Hungary. Enough, however, of Serb nationality remained to kindle at the
summons of 1848, and to resent with a sudden fierceness the determination of the
Magyar rulers at Pesth that the Magyar language, as the language of State, should
thenceforward bind together all the races of Hungary in the enjoyment of a common
national life. The Serbs had demanded from Kossuth and his colleagues the restoration
of the local and ecclesiastical autonomy of which the Hapsburgs had deprived them,
and the recognition of their own national language and customs. They found, or
believed, that instead of a German they were now to have a Magyar lord, and one more
near, more energetic, more aggressive. Their reply to Kossuth's defence of Magyar
ascendency was the summoning of a Congress of Serbs at Carlowitz on the Lower
Danube. Here it was declared that the Serbs of Austria formed a free and independent
nation under the Austrian sceptre and the common Hungarian Crown. A Voivode was
elected and the limits of his province were defined. A National Committee was charged
with the duty of organising a Government and of entering into intimate connection with
the neighbouring Slavic Kingdom of Croatia.
At Agram, the Croatian capital, all established authority had sunk in the catastrophe of
March, and a National Committee had assumed power. It happened that the office of
Governor, or Ban, of Croatia was then vacant. The Committee sent a deputation to
Vienna requesting that the colonel of the first Croatian regiment, Jellacic, might be
appointed. Without waiting for the arrival of the deputation, the Court, by a patent
dated the 23rd of March, nominated Jellacic to the vacant post. The date of this
appointment, and the assumption of office by Jellacic on the 14th of April, the very day
before the Hungarian Ministry entered upon its powers, have been considered proof
that a secret understanding existed from the first between Jellacic and the Court. No
further evidence of this secret relation has, however, been made public, and the belief
long current among all friends of the Magyar cause that Croatia was deliberately
instigated to revolt against the Hungarian Government by persons around the Emperor
seems to rest on no solid foundation. The Croats would have been unlike all other
communities in the Austrian Empire if they had not risen under the national impulse of
1848. They had been murmuring against Magyar ascendency for years past, and the fire
long smouldering now probably burst into flame here as elsewhere without the touch of
an incendiary hand. With regard to Jellacic's sudden appointment it is possible that the
Court, powerless to check the Croatian movement, may have desired to escape the
appearance of compulsion by spontaneously conferring office on the popular soldier,
who was at least more likely to regard the Emperor's interests than the lawyers and
demagogues around him. Whether Jellacic was at this time genuinely concerned for
Croatian autonomy, or whether from the first, while he apparently acted with the
Croatian nationalists his deepest sympathies were with the Austrian army, and his sole
design was that of serving the Imperial Crown with or without its own avowed
concurrence, it is impossible to say. That, like most of his countrymen, he cordially
hated the Magyars, is beyond doubt. The general impression left by his character hardly
accords with the Magyar conception of him as the profound and far-sighted
conspirator-he would seem, on the contrary, to have been a man easily yielding to the
impulses of the moment, and capable of playing contradictory parts with little sense of
his own inconsistency. [430]
Installed in office, Jellacic cast to the winds all consideration due to the Emperor's
personal engagements towards Hungary, and forthwith permitted the Magyar officials
to be driven out of the country. On the 2nd of May he issued an order forbidding all
Croatian authorities to correspond with the Government at Pesth. Batthyány, the
Hungarian Premier, at once hurried to Vienna, and obtained from the Emperor a letter
commanding Jellacic to submit to the Hungarian Ministry. As the Ban paid no attention
to this mandate, General Hrabowsky, commander of the troops in the southern
provinces, received orders from Pesth to annul all that Jellacic had done, to suspend
him from his office, and to bring him to trial for high treason. Nothing daunted, Jellacic
on his own authority convoked the Diet of Croatia for the 5th of June; the populace of
Agram, on hearing of Hrabowsky's mission, burnt the Palatine in effigy. This was a
direct outrage on the Imperial family, and Batthyány turned it to account. The Emperor
had just been driven from Vienna by the riot of the 15th of May. Batthyány sought him
at Innsbruck, and by assuring him of the support of his loyal Hungarians against both
the Italians and the Viennese obtained his signature on June 10th to a rescript
vehemently condemning the Ban's action and suspending him from office. Jellacic had
already been summoned to appear at Innsbruck. He set out, taking with him a
deputation of Croats and Serbs, and leaving behind him a popular Assembly sitting at
Agram, in which, besides the representatives of Croatia, there were seventy Deputies
from the Serb provinces. On the very day on which the Ban reached Innsbruck, the
Imperial order condemning him and suspending him from his functions was published
by Batthyány at Pesth. Nor was the situation made easier by the almost simultaneous
announcement that civil war had broken out on the Lower Danube, and that General
Hrabowsky, on attempting to occupy Carlowitz, had been attacked and compelled to
retreat by the Serbs under their national leader Stratimirovic. [431]
It is said that the Emperor Ferdinand, during deliberations in council on which the fate
of the Austrian Empire depended, was accustomed to occupy himself with counting the
number of carriages that passed from right and left respectively under the windows. In
the struggle between Croatia and Hungary he appears to have avoided even the formal
exercise of authority, preferring to commit the decision between the contending parties
to the Archduke John, as mediator or judge. John was too deeply immersed in other
business to give much attention to the matter. What really passed between Jellacic and
the Imperial family at Innsbruck is unknown. The official request of the Ban was for
the withdrawal or suppression of the rescript signed by the Emperor on June 10th.
Prince Esterhazy, who represented the Hungarian Government at Innsbruck, was ready
to make this concession; but before the document could be revoked, it had been made
public by Batthyány. With the object of proving his fidelity to the Court, Jellacic now
published an address to the Croatian regiments serving in Lombardy, entreating them
not to be diverted from their duty to the Emperor in the field by any report of danger to
their rights and their nationality nearer home. So great was Jellacic's influence with his
countrymen that an appeal from him of opposite tenor would probably have caused the
Croatian regiments to quit Radetzky in a mass, and so have brought the war in Italy to
an ignominious end. His action won for him a great popularity in the higher ranks of
the Austrian army, and probably gained for him, even if he did not possess it before,
the secret confidence of the Court. That some understanding now existed is almost
certain, for, in spite of the unrepealed declaration of June 10th, and the postponement
of the Archduke's judgment, Jellacic was permitted to return to Croatia and to resume
his government. The Diet at Agram occupied itself with far-reaching schemes for a
confederation of the southern Slavs; but its discussions were of no practical effect, and
after some weeks it was extinguished under the form of an adjournment. From this time
Jellacic held dictatorial power. It was unnecessary for him in his relations with
Hungary any longer to keep up the fiction of a mere defence of Croatian rights; he
appeared openly as the champion of Austrian unity. In negotiations which he held with
Batthyány at Vienna during the last days of July, he demanded the restoration of single
Ministries for War, Finance, and Foreign Affairs for the whole Austrian Empire. The
demand was indignantly refused, and the chieftains of the two rival races quitted
Vienna to prepare for war.
The Hungarian National Parliament, elected under the new Constitution, had been
opened at Pesth on July 5th. Great efforts had been made, in view of the difficulties
The Ministry now in office at Vienna was composed in part of men who had been
known as reformers in the early days of 1848; but the old order was represented by
Count Wessenberg, who had been Metternich's assistant at the Congress of Vienna, and
by Latour, the War Minister, a soldier of high birth whose career dated back to the
campaign of Austerlitz. Whatever contempt might be felt by one section of the Cabinet
for the other, its members were able to unite against the independence of Hungary as
they had united against the independence of Italy. They handed in to the Emperor a
memorial in which the very concessions to which they owed their own existence as a
Constitutional Ministry were made a ground for declaring the laws establishing
Hungarian autonomy null and void. In a tissue of transparent sophistries they argued
that the Emperor's promise of a Constitution to all his dominions on the 15th of March
disabled him from assenting, without the advice of his Viennese Ministry, to the
resolutions subsequently passed by the Hungarian Diet, although the union between
The Emperor, while the city was still in tumult, had in his usual fashion promised that
the popular demands should be satisfied; but as soon as he was unobserved he fled
from Vienna, and in his flight he was followed by the Czech deputies and many
German Conservatives, who declared that their lives were no longer safe in the capital.
Most of the Ministers gathered round the Emperor at Olmütz in Moravia; the
Assembly, however, continued to hold its sittings in Vienna, and the Finance Minister,
apparently under instructions from the Court, remained at his post, and treated the
Assembly as still possessed of legal powers. But for all practical purposes the western
half of the Austrian Empire had now ceased to have any Government whatever; and the
real state of affairs was bluntly exposed in a manifesto published by Count
Windischgrätz at Prague on the 11th of October, in which, without professing to have
received any commission from the Emperor, he announced his intention of marching
on Vienna in order to protect the sovereign and maintain the unity of the Empire. In
due course the Emperor ratified the action of his energetic soldier; Windischgrätz was
appointed to the supreme command over all the troops of the Empire with the
exception of Radetzky's army, and his march against Vienna was begun.
To the Hungarian Parliament, exasperated by the decree ordering its own dissolution
and the war openly levied against the country by the Court in alliance with Jellacic, the
revolt of the capital seemed to bring a sudden deliverance from all danger. The
[Schwarzenberg Minister.]
In the subjugation of Vienna the army had again proved itself the real political power in
Austria; but the time had not yet arrived when absolute government could be openly
restored. The Bohemian deputies, fatally as they had injured the cause of constitutional
rule by their secession from Vienna, were still in earnest in the cause of provincial
autonomy, and would vehemently have repelled the charge of an alliance with
despotism. Even the mutilated Parliament of Vienna had been recognised by the Court
as in lawful session until the 22nd of October, when an order was issued proroguing the
Schwarzenberg's first act was the deposition of his sovereign. The imbecility of the
Emperor Ferdinand had long suggested his abdication or dethronement, and the time
for decisive action had now arrived. He gladly withdrew into private life: the crown,
declined by his brother and heir, was passed on to his nephew, Francis Joseph, a youth
of eighteen. This prince had at least not made in person, not uttered with his own lips,
not signed with his own hand, those solemn engagements with the Hungarian nation
which Austria was now about to annihilate with fire and sword. He had not moved in
friendly intercourse with men who were henceforth doomed to the scaffold. He came to
the throne as little implicated in the acts of his predecessor as any nominal chief of a
State could be; as fitting an instrument in the hands of Court and army as any
reactionary faction could desire. Helpless and well-meaning, Francis Joseph, while his
troops poured into Hungary, played for a while in Austria the part of a loyal observer of
his Parliament; then, when the moment had come for its destruction, he obeyed his
soldier-minister as Ferdinand had in earlier days obeyed the students, and signed the
decree for its dissolution (March 4, 1849). The Assembly, during its sittings at Vienna,
had accomplished one important task: it had freed the peasantry from the burdens
attaching to their land and converted them into independent proprietors. This part of its
work survived it, and remained almost the sole gain that Austria derived from the
struggle of 1848. After the removal to Kremsier, a Committee of the Assembly had
been engaged with the formation of a Constitution for Austria, and the draft was now
completed. In the course of debate something had been gained by the representatives of
the German and the Slavic races in the way of respect for one another's interests and
prejudices; some political knowledge had been acquired; some approach made to an
[Hungary.]
The Hungarian Diet, on learning of the transfer of the crown from Ferdinand to Francis
Joseph, had refused to acknowledge this act as valid, on the ground that it had taken
place without the consent of the Legislature, and that Francis Joseph had not been
crowned King of Hungary. Ferdinand was treated as still the reigning sovereign, and
the war now became, according to the Hungarian view, more than ever a war in
defence of established right, inasmuch as the assailants of Hungary were not only
violators of a settled constitution but agents of a usurping prince. The whole nation was
summoned to arms; and in order that there might be no faltering at headquarters, the
command over the forces on the Danube was given by Kossuth to Görgei, a young
officer of whom little was yet known to the world but that he had executed Count
Eugène Zichy, a powerful noble, for holding communications with Jellacic. It was the
design of the Austrian Government to attack Hungary at once by the line of the Danube
and from the frontier of Galicia on the north-east. The Serbs were to be led forward
from their border-provinces against the capital; and another race, which centuries of
oppression had filled with bitter hatred of the Magyars, was to be thrown into the
struggle. The mass of the population of Transylvania belonged to the Roumanian stock.
The Magyars, here known by the name of Szeklers, and a community of Germans,
descended from immigrants who settled in Transylvania about the twelfth century,
formed a small but a privileged minority, in whose presence the Roumanian peasantry,
The Austrians now supposed the war to be at an end. It was in fact but beginning. The
fortress of Comorn, on the upper Danube, remained in the hands of the Magyars; and
by conducting his retreat northwards into a mountainous country where the Austrians
could not follow him Görgei gained the power either of operating against
Windischgrätz's communications or of combining with the army of General Klapka,
who was charged with the defence of Hungary against an enemy advancing from
Galicia. While Windischgrätz remained inactive at Pesth, Klapka met and defeated an
Austrian division under General Schlick which had crossed the Carpathians and was
moving southwards towards Debreczin. Görgei now threw himself eastwards upon the
The struggle between Austria and Hungary had reached this stage when the
Constitution merging all provincial rights in one centralised system was published by
Schwarzenberg. The Croats, the Serbs, the Roumanians, who had so credulously
flocked to the Emperor's banner under the belief that they were fighting for their own
independence, at length discovered their delusion. Their enthusiasm sank; the bolder
among them even attempted to detach their countrymen from the Austrian cause; but it
was too late to undo what had already been done. Jellacic, now undistinguishable from
any other Austrian general, mocked the politicians of Agram who still babbled of
Croatian autonomy: Stratimirovic, the national leader of the Serbs, sank before his rival
the Patriarch of Carlowitz, a Churchman who preferred ecclesiastical immunities
granted by the Emperor of Austria to independence won on the field of battle by his
countrymen. Had a wiser or more generous statesmanship controlled the Hungarian
Government in the first months of its activity, a union between the Magyars and the
subordinate races against Viennese centralisation might perhaps even now have been
effected. But distrust and animosity had risen too high for the mediators between Slav
and Magyar to attain any real success, nor was any distinct promise of self-government
even now to be drawn from the offers of concession which were held out at Debreczin.
An interval of dazzling triumph seemed indeed to justify the Hungarian Government in
holding fast to its sovereign claims. In the hands of able leaders no task seemed too
hard for Magyar troops to accomplish. Bem, arriving in Transylvania without a soldier,
created a new army, and by a series of extraordinary marches and surprises not only
overthrew the Austrian and Roumanian troops opposed to him, but expelled a corps of
Russians whom General Puchner in his extremity had invited to garrison
Hermannstadt. Görgei, resuming in the first week of April the movement in which
Dembinski had failed, inflicted upon the Austrians a series of defeats that drove them
back to the walls of Pesth; while Klapka, advancing on Comorn, effected the relief of
this fortress, and planted in the rear of the Austrians a force which threatened to cut
them off from Vienna. It was in vain that the Austrian Government removed
Windischgrätz from his command. His successor found that a force superior to his own
was gathering round him on every side. He saw that Hungary was lost; and leaving a
garrison in the fortress of Buda, he led off his army in haste from the capital, and only
paused in his retreat when he had reached the Austrian frontier.
The Magyars, rallying from their first defeats, had brilliantly achieved the liberation of
their land. The Court of Vienna, attempting in right of superior force to overthrow an
established constitution, had proved itself the inferior power; and in mingled exaltation
and resentment it was natural that the party and the leaders who had been foremost in
the national struggle of Hungary should deem a renewed union with Austria
impossible, and submission to the Hapsburg crown an indignity. On the 19th of April,
after the defeat of Windischgrätz but before the evacuation of Pesth, the Diet declared
that the House of Hapsburg had forfeited its throne, and proclaimed Hungary an
independent State. No statement was made as to the future form of government, but
everything indicated that Hungary, if successful in maintaining its independence,
would become a Republic, with Kossuth, who was now appointed Governor, for its
chief. Even in the revolutionary severance of ancient ties homage was paid to the legal
and constitutional bent of the Hungarian mind. Nothing was said in the Declaration of
April 19th of the rights of man; there was no Parisian commonplace on the sovereignty
of the people. The necessity of Hungarian independence was deduced from the
offences which the Austrian House had committed against the written and unwritten
law of the land, offences continued through centuries and crowned by the invasion
under Windischgrätz, by the destruction of the Hungarian Constitution in the edict of
March 9th, and by the introduction of the Russians into Transylvania. Though coloured
and exaggerated by Magyar patriotism, the charges made against the Hapsburg dynasty
were on the whole in accordance with historical fact; and if the affairs of States were to
be guided by no other considerations than those relating to the performance of
contracts, Hungary had certainly established its right to be quit of partnership with
Austria and of its Austrian sovereign. But the judgment of history has condemned
Kossuth's declaration of Hungarian independence in the midst of the struggle of 1849
as a great political error. It served no useful purpose; it deepened the antagonism
already existing between the Government and a large part of the army; and while it
added to the sources of internal discord, it gave colour to the intervention of Russia as
against a revolutionary cause. Apart from its disastrous effect upon the immediate
course of events, it was based upon a narrow and inadequate view both of the needs
and of the possibilities of the future. Even in the interests of the Magyar nation itself as
a European power, it may well be doubted whether in severance from Austria such
influence and such weight could possibly have been won by a race numerically weak
and surrounded by hostile nationalities, as the ability and the political energy of the
Magyars have since won for them in the direction of the accumulated forces of the
Austro-Hungarian Empire.
It has generally been considered a fatal error on the part of the Hungarian commanders
that, after expelling the Austrian army, they did not at once march upon Vienna, but
returned to lay siege to the fortress of Buda, which resisted long enough to enable the
Austrian Government to reorganise and to multiply its forces. But the intervention of
Russia would probably have been fatal to Hungarian independence, even if Vienna had
[Vengeance of Austria.]
When it became known that the Czar had determined to throw all his strength into the
scale, Kossuth saw that no ordinary operations of war could possibly avert defeat, and
called upon his countrymen to destroy their homes and property at the approach of the
enemy, and to leave to the invader a flaming and devastated solitude. But the area of
warfare was too vast for the execution of this design, even if the nation had been
prepared for so desperate a course. The defence of Hungary was left to its armies, and
Görgei became the leading figure in the calamitous epoch that followed. While the
Government prepared to retire to Szegedin, far in the south-east, Görgei took post on
the Upper Danube, to meet the powerful force which the Emperor of Austria had
placed under the orders of General Haynau, a soldier whose mingled energy and
ferocity in Italy had marked him out as a fitting scourge for the Hungarians, and had
won for him supreme civil as well as military powers. Görgei naturally believed that
the first object of the Austrian commander would be to effect a junction with the
Russians, who, under Paskiewitsch, the conqueror of Kars in 1829, were now crossing
the Carpathians; and he therefore directed all his efforts against the left of the Austrian
line. While he was unsuccessfully attacking the enemy on the river Waag north of
Comorn, Haynau with the mass of his forces advanced on the right bank of the Danube,
and captured Raab (June 28th). Görgei threw himself southwards, but his efforts to stop
Haynau were in vain, and the Austrians occupied Pesth (July 11th). The Russians
meanwhile were advancing southwards by an independent line of march. Their
vanguard reached the Danube and the Upper Theiss, and Görgei seemed to be
enveloped by the enemy. The Hungarian Government adjured him to hasten towards
Szegedin and Arad, where Kossuth was concentrating all the other divisions for a final
struggle; but Görgei held on to his position about Comorn until his retreat could only
be effected by means of a vast detour northwards, and before he could reach Arad all
[Tuscany.]
The gloom which followed Austrian victory was now descending not on Hungary alone
but on Italy also. The armistice made between Radetzky and the King of Piedmont at
Vigevano in August, 1848, lasted for seven months, during which the British and
French Governments endeavoured, but in vain, to arrange terms of peace between the
combatants. With military tyranny in its most brutal form crushing down Lombardy, it
was impossible that Charles Albert should renounce the work of deliverance to which
he had pledged himself. Austria, on the other hand, had now sufficiently recovered its
strength to repudiate the concessions which it had offered at an earlier time, and
Schwarzenberg on assuming power announced that the Emperor would maintain
Lombardy at every cost. The prospects of Sardinia as regarded help from the rest of the
Peninsula were far worse than when it took up arms in the spring of 1848. Projects of a
general Italian federation, of a military union between the central States and Piedmont,
of an Italian Constituent Assembly, had succeeded one another and left no result.
The campaign which now began lasted but for five days. While Charles Albert
scattered his forces from Lago Maggiore to Stradella on the south of the Po, hoping to
move by the northern road upon Milan, Radetzky concentrated his troops near Pavia,
where he intended to cross the Ticino. In an evil moment Charles Albert had given the
command of his army to Chrzanowski, a Pole, and had entrusted its southern division,
composed chiefly of Lombard volunteers, to another Pole, Ramorino, who had been
engaged in Mazzini's incursion into Savoy in 1833. Ramorino had then, rightly or
wrongly, incurred the charge of treachery. His relations with Chrzanowski were of the
worst character, and the habit of military obedience was as much wanting to him as the
sentiment of loyalty to the sovereign from whom he had now accepted a command. The
wilfulness of this adventurer made the Piedmontese army an easy prey. Ramorino was
posted on the south of the Po, near its junction with the Ticino, but received orders on
the commencement of hostilities to move northwards and defend the passage of the
Ticino at Pavia, breaking up the bridges behind him. Instead of obeying this order he
kept his division lingering about Stradella. Radetzky, approaching the Ticino at Pavia,
found the passage unguarded. He crossed the river with the mass of his army, and,
cutting off Ramorino's division, threw himself upon the flank of the scattered
Piedmontese. Charles Albert, whose headquarters were at Novara, hurried southwards.
Before he could concentrate his troops, he was attacked at Mortara by the Austrians
and driven back. The line of retreat upon Turin and Alessandria was already lost; an
attempt was made to hold Novara against the advancing Austrians. The battle which
was fought in front of this town on the 23rd of March ended with the utter overthrow of
the Sardinian army. So complete was the demoralisation of the troops that the cavalry
were compelled to attack bodies of half-maddened infantry in the streets of Novara in
order to save the town from pillage. [440]
Charles Albert had throughout the battle of the 23rd appeared to seek death. The
reproaches levelled against him for the abandonment of Milan in the previous year, the
charges of treachery which awoke to new life the miserable record of his waverings in
1821, had sunk into the very depths of his being. Weak and irresolute in his earlier
political career, harsh and illiberal towards the pioneers of Italian freedom during a
great part of his reign, Charles had thrown his whole heart and soul into the final
struggle of his country against Austria. This struggle lost, life had nothing more for
him. The personal hatred borne towards him by the rulers of Austria caused him to
believe that easier terms of peace might be granted to Piedmont if another sovereign
were on its throne, and his resolution, in case of defeat, was fixed and settled. When
night fell after the battle of Novara he called together his generals, and in their presence
abdicated his crown. Bidding an eternal farewell to his son Victor Emmanuel, who
knelt weeping before him, he quitted the army accompanied by but one attendant, and
passed unrecognised through the enemy's guards. He left his queen, his capital,
unvisited as he journeyed into exile. The brief residue of his life was spent in solitude
near Oporto. Six months after the battle of Novara he was carried to the grave.
It may be truly said of Charles Albert that nothing in his reign became him like the
ending of it. Hopeless as the conflict of 1849 might well appear, it proved that there
was one sovereign in Italy who was willing to stake his throne, his life, the whole sum
of his personal interests, for the national cause; one dynasty whose sons knew no fear
save that others should encounter death before them on Italy's behalf. Had the
profoundest statesmanship, the keenest political genius, governed the counsels of
Piedmont in 1849, it would, with full prescience of the ruin of Novara, have bidden the
sovereign and the army strike in self-sacrifice their last unaided blow. From this time
there was but one possible head for Italy. The faults of the Government of Turin during
Charles Albert's years of peace had ceased to have any bearing on Italian affairs; the
sharpest tongues no longer repeated, the most credulous ear no longer harboured the
slanders of 1848; the man who, beaten and outnumbered, had for hours sat immovable
in front of the Austrian cannon at Novara had, in the depth of his misfortune, given to
his son not the crown of Piedmont only but the crown of Italy. Honour, patriotism, had
made the young Victor Emmanuel the hope of the Sardinian army; the same honour
and patriotism carried him safely past the lures which Austria set for the inheritor of a
ruined kingdom, and gave in the first hours of his reign an earnest of the policy which
was to end in Italian union. It was necessary for him to visit Radetzky in his camp in
order to arrange the preliminaries of peace. There, amid flatteries offered to him at his
[Restoration in Tuscany.]
The battle of Novara had not long been fought when the Grand Duke of Tuscany was
restored to his throne under an Austrian garrison, and his late democratic Minister,
Guerazzi, who had endeavoured by submission to the Court-party to avert an Austrian
occupation, was sent into imprisonment. At Rome a far bolder spirit was shown.
Mazzini had arrived in the first week of March, and, though his exhortation to the
Roman Assembly to forget the offences of Charles Albert and to unite against the
Austrians in Lombardy came too late, he was able, as one of a Triumvirate with
dictatorial powers, to throw much of his own ardour into the Roman populace in
defence of their own city and State. The enemy against whom Rome had to be
defended proved indeed to be other than that against whom preparations were being
made. The victories of Austria had aroused the apprehension of the French
Government; and though the fall of Piedmont and Lombardy could not now be undone,
it was determined by Louis Napoleon and his Ministers to anticipate Austria's
restoration of the Papal power by the despatch of French troops to Rome. All the
traditions of French national policy pointed indeed to such an intervention. Austria had
already invaded the Roman States from the north, and the political conditions which in
1832 had led so pacific a minister as Casimir Perier to occupy Ancona were now
present in much greater force. Louis Napoleon could not, without abandoning a
recognised interest and surrendering something of the due influence of France, have
permitted Austrian generals to conduct the Pope back to his capital and to assume the
government of Central Italy. If the first impulses of the Revolution of 1848 had still
been active in France, its intervention would probably have taken the form of a direct
alliance with the Roman Republic; but public opinion had travelled far in the opposite
direction since the Four Days of June; and the new President, if he had not forgotten his
own youthful relations with the Carbonari, was now a suitor for the solid favours of
French conservative and religious sentiment. His Ministers had not recognised the
Roman Republic. They were friends, no doubt, to liberty; but when it was certain that
the Austrians, the Spaniards, the Neapolitans, were determined to restore the Pope, it
might be assumed that the continuance of the Roman Republic was an impossibility.
France, as a Catholic and at the same time a Liberal Power, might well, under these
Before landing on the Italian coast, the French general sent envoys to the authorities at
Civita Vecchia, stating that his troops came as friends, and demanding that they should
be admitted into the town. The Municipal Council determined not to offer resistance,
and the French thus gained a footing on Italian soil and a basis for their operations.
Messages came from French diplomatists in Rome encouraging the general to advance
without delay. The mass of the population, it was said, would welcome his appearance;
the democratic faction, if reckless, was too small to offer any serious resistance, and
would disappear as soon as the French should enter the city. On this point, however,
Oudinot was speedily undeceived. In reply to a military envoy who was sent to assure
the Triumvirs of the benevolent designs of the French, Mazzini bluntly answered that
no reconciliation with the Pope was possible; and on the 26th of April the Roman
Assembly called upon the Executive to repel force by force. Oudinot now proclaimed a
state of siege at Civita Vecchia, seized the citadel, and disarmed the garrison. On the
28th he began his march on Rome. As he approached, energetic preparations were
made for resistance. Garibaldi, who had fought at the head of a free corps against the
Austrians in Upper Italy in 1848, had now brought some hundreds of his followers to
Rome. A regiment of Lombard volunteers, under their young leader Manara, had
escaped after the catastrophe of Novara, and had come to fight for liberty in its last
stronghold on Italian soil. Heroes, exiles, desperadoes from all parts of the Peninsula,
met in the streets of Rome, and imparted to its people a vigour and resolution of which
the world had long deemed them incapable. Even the remnant of the Pontifical Guard
took part in the work of defence. Oudinot, advancing with his little corps of seven
thousand men, found himself, without heavy artillery, in front of a city still sheltered by
its ancient fortifications, and in the presence of a body of combatants more resolute
than his own troops and twice as numerous. He attacked on the 30th, was checked at
every point, and compelled to retreat towards Civita Vecchia, leaving two hundred and
fifty prisoners in the hands of the enemy. [441]
Insignificant as was this misfortune of the French arms, it occasioned no small stir in
Paris and in the Assembly. The Government, which had declared that the armament
was intended only to protect Rome against Austria, was vehemently reproached for its
duplicity, and a vote was passed demanding that the expedition should not be
permanently diverted from the end assigned to it. Had the Assembly not been on the
Against the forces now brought into action it was impossible that the Roman Republic
could long defend itself. One hope remained, and that was in a revolution within
France itself. The recent elections had united on the one side all Conservative interests,
on the other the Socialists and all the more extreme factions of the Republican party. It
was determined that a trial of strength should first be made within the Assembly itself
upon the Roman question, and that, if the majority there should stand firm, an appeal
should be made to insurrection. Accordingly on the 11th of June, after the renewal of
hostilities had been announced in Paris, Ledru Rollin demanded the impeachment of
the Ministry. His motion was rejected, and the signal was given for an outbreak not
only in the capital but in Lyons and other cities. But the Government were on their
guard, and it was in vain that the resources of revolution were once more brought into
play. General Changarnier suppressed without bloodshed a tumult in Paris on June
13th; and though fighting took place at Lyons, the insurrection proved feeble in
comparison with the movements of the previous year. Louis Napoleon and his Ministry
remained unshaken, and the siege of Rome was accordingly pressed to its conclusion.
Oudinot, who at the beginning of the month had carried the positions held by the
Roman troops outside the walls, opened fire with heavy artillery on the 14th. The
defence was gallantly sustained by Garibaldi and his companions until the end of the
month, when the breaches made in the walls were stormed by the enemy, and further
resistance became impossible. The French made their entry into Rome on the 3rd of
July, Garibaldi leading his troops northwards in order to prolong the struggle with the
Austrians who were now in possession of Bologna, and, if possible, to reach Venice,
which was still uncaptured. Driven to the eastern coast and surrounded by the enemy,
he was forced to put to sea. He landed again, but only to be hunted over mountain and
forest. His wife died by his side. Rescued by the devotion of Italian patriots, he made
his escape to Piedmont and thence to America, to reappear in all the fame of his heroic
deeds and sufferings at the next great crisis in the history of his country.
Thus the pall of priestly absolutism and misrule fell once more over the Roman States,
and the deeper the hostility of the educated classes to the restored power the more
active became the system of repression. For liberty of person there was no security
whatever, and, though the offences of 1848 were now professedly amnestied, the
prisons were soon thronged with persons arrested on indefinite charges and detained
for an unlimited time without trial. Nor was Rome more unfortunate in its condition
than Italy generally. The restoration of Austrian authority in the north was completed
by the fall of Venice. For months after the subjugation of the mainland, Venice, where
the Republic had again been proclaimed and Manin had been recalled to power, had
withstood all the efforts of the Emperor's forces. Its hopes had been raised by the
We have thus far traced the stages of conflict between the old monarchical order and
the forces of revolution in the Austrian empire and in that Mediterranean land whose
destiny was so closely interwoven with that of Austria. We have now to pass back into
Germany, and to resume the history of the German revolution at the point where the
national movement seemed to concentrate itself in visible form, the opening of the
Parliament of Frankfort on the 18th of May, 1848. That an Assembly representing the
entire German people, elected in unbounded enthusiasm and comprising within it
nearly every man of political or intellectual eminence who sympathised with the
national cause, should be able to impose its will upon the tottering Governments of the
individual German States, was not an unnatural belief in the circumstances of the
moment. No second Chamber represented the interests of the ruling Houses, nor had
they within the Assembly itself the organs for the expression of their own real or unreal
claims. With all the freedom of a debating club or of a sovereign authority like the
French Convention, the Parliament of Frankfort entered upon its work of moulding
In the preparation of a Constitution for Germany the Assembly could draw little help
from the work of legislators in other countries. Belgium, whose institutions were at
once recent and successful, was not a Federal State; the founders of the American
Union had not had to reckon with four kings and to include in their federal territory
part of the dominions of an emperor. Instead of grappling at once with the formidable
difficulties of political organisation, the Committee charged with the drafting of a
Constitution determined first to lay down the principles of civil right which were to be
the basis of the German commonwealth. There was something of the scientific spirit of
the Germans in thus working out the substructure of public law on which all other
institutions were to rest; moreover, the remembrance of the Decrees of Carlsbad and of
the other exceptional legislation from which Germany had so heavily suffered excited a
strong demand for the most solemn guarantees against arbitrary departure from settled
law in the future. Thus, regardless of the absence of any material power by which its
conclusions were to be enforced, the Assembly, in the intervals between its stormy
debates on the politics of the hour, traced with philosophic thoroughness the
consequences of the principles of personal liberty and of equality before the law, and
fashioned the order of a modern society in which privileges of class, diversity of
jurisdictions, and the trammels of feudalism on industrial life were alike swept away.
Four months had passed, and the discussion of the so-called Primary Rights was still
unfinished, when the Assembly was warned by an outbreak of popular violence in
Frankfort itself of the necessity of hastening towards a constitutional settlement.
The intervention of foreign Courts on behalf of Denmark had given ostensible ground
to the Prussian Government for not pursuing the war with greater resolution; but
though the fear of Russia undoubtedly checked King Frederick William, this was not
the sole, nor perhaps the most powerful influence that worked upon him. The cause of
Schleswig-Hulstein was, in spite of its legal basis, in the main a popular and a
revolutionary one, and between the King of Prussia and the revolution there was an
intense and a constantly deepening antagonism. Since the meeting of the National
Assembly at Berlin on the 22nd of May the capital had been the scene of an almost
unbroken course of disorder. The Assembly, which was far inferior in ability and
character to that of Frankfort, soon showed itself unable to resist the influence of the
populace. On the 8th of June a resolution was moved that the combatants in the
It had been the distinguishing feature of the Prussian revolution that the army had never
for a moment wavered in its fidelity to the throne. The success of the insurrection of
March 18th had been due to the paucity of troops and the errors of those in command,
not to any military disaffection such as had paralysed authority in Paris and in the
Mediterranean States. Each affront offered to the army by the democratic majority in
the Assembly supplied the King with new weapons; each slight passed upon the royal
authority deepened the indignation of the officers. The armistice of Malmö brought
back to the neighbourhood of the capital a general who was longing to crush the party
of disorder, and regiments on whom he could rely; but though there was now no
military reason for delay, it was not until the capture of Vienna by Windischgrätz had
dealt a fatal blow at democracy in Germany that Frederick William determined to have
done with his own mutinous Parliament and the mobs by which it was controlled.
During September and October the riots and tumults in the streets of Berlin continued.
The order of prorogation, as soon as signed by the King was brought into the Assembly
by the Ministers, who demanded that it should be obeyed immediately and without
discussion. The President allowing a debate to commence, the Ministers and
seventy-eight Conservative deputies left the Hall. The remaining deputies, two hundred
and eighty in number, then passed a resolution declaring that they would not meet at
Brandenburg; that the King had no power to remove, to prorogue, or to dissolve the
Assembly without its own consent; and that the Ministers were unfit to hold office.
This challenge was answered by a proclamation of the Ministers declaring the further
meeting of the deputies illegal, and calling upon the Civic Guard not to recognise them
as a Parliament. On the following day General Wrangel and his troops entered Berlin
and surrounded the Assembly Hall. In reply to the protests of the President, Wrangel
answered that the Parliament had been prorogued and must disappear. The members
peaceably left the Hall, but reassembled at another spot that they had selected in
anticipation of expulsion; and for some days they were pursued by the military from
one place of meeting to another. On the 15th of November they passed a resolution
declaring the expenditure of state funds and the raising of taxes by the Government to
be illegal so long as the Assembly should not be permitted to continue its deliberations.
The Ministry on its part showed that it was determined not to brook resistance. The
Civic Guard was dissolved and ordered to surrender its arms. It did so without striking
a blow, and vanished from the scene, a memorable illustration of the political nullity of
the middle class in Berlin as compared with that of Paris. The state of siege was
proclaimed, the freedom of the Press and the right of public meeting were suspended.
On the 27th of November a portion of the Assembly appeared, according to the King's
order, at Brandenburg, but the numbers present were not sufficient for the transaction
of business. The presence of the majority, however, was not required, for the King had
determined to give no further legal opportunities to the men who had defied him.
In the meantime the Parliament of Frankfort, warned against longer delay by the
disturbances of September 17th, had addressed itself in earnest to the settlement of the
Federal Constitution of Germany. Above a host of minor difficulties two great
problems confronted it at the outset. The first was the relation of the Austrian Empire,
with its partly German and partly foreign territory, to the German national State; the
other was the nature of the headship to be established. As it was clear that the Austrian
Government could not apply the public law of Germany to its Slavic and Hungarian
provinces, it was enacted in the second article of the Frankfort Constitution that where
a German and a non-German territory had the same sovereign, the relation between
these countries must be one of purely personal union under the sovereign, no part of
Germany being incorporated into a single State with any non-German land. At the time
when this article was drafted the disintegration of Austria seemed more probable than
the re-establishment of its unity; no sooner, however, had Prince Schwarzenberg been
brought into power by the subjugation of Vienna, than he made it plain that the
government of Austria was to be centralised as it had never been before. In the first
public declaration of his policy he announced that Austria would maintain its unity and
permit no exterior influence to modify its internal organisation; that the settlement of
the relations between Austria and Germany could only be effected after each had
gained some new and abiding political form; and that in the meantime Austria would
continue to fulfil its duties as a confederate. [446] The interpretation put upon this
statement at Frankfort was that Austria, in the interest of its own unity, preferred not to
enter the German body, but looked forward to the establishment of some intimate
alliance with it at a future time. As the Court of Vienna had evidently determined not to
apply to itself the second article of the Constitution, and an antagonism between
German and Austrian policy came within view, Schmerling, as an Austrian subject,
was induced to resign his office, and was succeeded in it by Gagern, hitherto President
of the Assembly (Dec. 16th). [447]
In announcing the policy of the new Ministry, Gagern assumed the exclusion of Austria
from the German Federation. Claiming for the Assembly, as the representative of the
German nation, sovereign power in drawing up the Constitution, he denied that the
Constitution could be made an object of negotiation with Austria. As Austria refused to
fulfil the conditions of the second article, it must remain outside the Federation; the
Ministry desired, however, to frame some close and special connection between
The second great difficulty of the Assembly was the settlement of the Federal headship.
Some were for a hereditary Emperor, some for a President or Board, some for a
monarchy alternating between the Houses of Prussia and Austria, some for a sovereign
elected for life or for a fixed period. The first decision arrived at was that the head
should be one of the reigning princes of Germany, and that he should bear the title of
Emperor. Against the hereditary principle there was a strong and, at first, a successful
opposition. Reserving for future discussion other questions relating to the imperial
office, the Assembly passed the Constitution through the first reading on February 3rd,
1849. It was now communicated to all the German Governments, with the request that
they would offer their opinions upon it. The four minor kingdoms-Saxony, Hanover,
Bavaria, and Würtemberg-with one consent declared against any Federation in which
Austria should not be included; the Cabinet of Vienna protested against the
subordination of the Emperor of Austria to a central power vested in any other German
prince, and proposed that the entire Austrian Empire, with its foreign as well as its
German elements, should enter the Federation. This note was enough to prove that
Austria was in direct conflict with the scheme of national union which the Assembly
had accepted; but the full peril of the situation was not perceived till on the 9th of
March Schwarzenberg published the Constitution of Olmütz, which extinguished all
separate rights throughout the Austrian Empire, and confounded in one mass, as
subjects of the Emperor Francis Joseph, Hungarians, Germans, Slavs and Italians. The
import of the Austrian demand now stood out clear and undisguised. Austria claimed to
range itself with a foreign population of thirty millions within the German Federation;
Frederick William had from early years cherished the hope of seeing some closer union
of Germany established under Prussian influence. But he dwelt in a world where there
was more of picturesque mirage than of real insight. He was almost superstitiously
loyal to the House of Austria; and he failed to perceive, what was palpable to men of
far inferior endowments to his own, that by setting Prussia at the head of the
constitutional movement of the epoch he might at any time from the commencement of
his reign have rallied all Germany round it. Thus the revolution of 1848 burst upon
him, and he was not the man to act or to lead in time of revolution. Even in 1848, had
he given promptly and with dignity what, after blood had been shed in his streets, he
had to give with humiliation, he would probably have been acclaimed Emperor on the
opening of the Parliament of Frankfort, and have been accepted by the universal voice
of Germany. But the odium cast upon him by the struggle of March 18th was so great
that in the election of a temporary Administrator of the Empire in June no single
member at Frankfort gave him a vote. Time was needed to repair his credit, and while
time passed Austria rose from its ruins. In the spring of 1849 Frederick William could
not have assumed the office of Emperor of Germany without risk of a war with Austria,
even had he been willing to accept this office on the nomination of the Frankfort
Parliament. But to accept the Imperial Crown from a popular Assembly was repugnant
to his deepest convictions. Clear as the Frankfort Parliament had been, as a whole, from
the taint of Republicanism or of revolutionary violence, it had nevertheless had its birth
in revolution: the crown which it offered would, in the King's expression, have been
picked up from blood and mire. Had the princes of Germany by any arrangement with
the Assembly tendered the crown to Frederick William the case would have been
different; a new Divine right would have emanated from the old, and conditions fixed
by negotiation between the princes and the popular Assembly might have been
endured. That Frederick William still aspired to German leadership in one form or
another no one doubted; his disposition to seek or to reject an accommodation with the
Frankfort Parliament varied with the influences which surrounded him. The Ministry
led by the Count of Brandenburg, though anti-popular in its domestic measures, was
desirous of arriving at some understanding with Gagern and the friends of German
The reply of the King to the deputation on the following day rudely dispelled these
hopes. He declared that before he could accept the Crown not only must he be
summoned to it by the Princes of Germany, but the consent of all the Governments
must be given to the Constitution. In other words, he required that the Assembly should
surrender its claims to legislative supremacy, and abandon all those parts of the Federal
Constitution of which any of the existing Governments disapproved. As it was certain
that Austria and the four minor kingdoms would never agree to any Federal union
worthy of the name, and that the Assembly could not now, without renouncing its past,
admit that the right of framing the Constitution lay outside itself, the answer of the
King was understood to amount to a refusal. The deputation left Berlin in the sorrowful
conviction that their mission had failed; and a note which was soon afterwards received
at Frankfort from the King showed that this belief was correct. [449]
The answer of King Frederick William proved indeed much more than that he had
refused the Crown of Germany; it proved that he would not accept the Constitution
which the Assembly had enacted. The full import of this determination, and the serious
nature of the crisis now impending over Germany, were at once understood. Though
twenty-eight Governments successively accepted the Constitution, these were without
exception petty States, and their united forces would scarcely have been a match for
one of its more powerful enemies. On the 5th of April the Austrian Cabinet declared
the Assembly to have been guilty of illegality in publishing the Constitution, and called
upon all Austrian deputies to quit Frankfort. The Prussian Lower Chamber, elected
under the King's recent edict, having protested against the state of siege in Berlin, and
On the ground of this last demand the Prussian official Press now began to denounce
the Assembly of Frankfort as a revolutionary body. The situation of affairs daily
became worse. It was in vain that the Assembly appealed to the Governments, the
legislative Chambers, the local bodies, the whole people, to bring the Constitution into
effect. The moral force on which it had determined to rely proved powerless, and in
despair of conquering the Governments by public opinion the more violent members of
the democratic party determined to appeal to insurrection. On the 4th of May a popular
rising began at Dresden, where the King, under the influence of Prussia, had dismissed
those of his Ministers who urged him to accept the Constitution, and had dissolved his
Parliament. The outbreak drove the King from his capital; but only five days had
passed when a Prussian army-corps entered the city and crushed the rebellion. In this
interval, short as it was, there had been indications that the real leaders of the
insurrection were fighting not for the Frankfort Constitution but for a Republic, and
that in the event of their victory a revolutionary Government, connected with French
and Polish schemes of subversion, would come into power. In Baden this was made
still clearer. There the Government of the Grand Duke had actually accepted the
Frankfort Constitution, and had ordered elections to be held for the Federal legislative
body by which the Assembly was to be succeeded. Insurrection nevertheless broke out.
The Republic was openly proclaimed; the troops joined the insurgents; and a
Provisional Government allied itself with a similar body that had sprung into being
with the help of French and Polish refugees in the neighbouring Palatinate. Conscious
that these insurrections must utterly ruin its own cause, the Frankfort Assembly on the
suggestion of Gagern called upon the Archduke John to suppress them by force of
arms, and at the same time to protect the free expression of opinion on behalf of the
Constitution where threatened by Governments. John, who had long clung to his office
only to further the ends of Austria, refused to do so, and Gagern in consequence
resigned. With his fall ended the real political existence of the Assembly. In reply to a
resolution which it passed on the 10th of May, calling upon John to employ all the
forces of Germany in defence of the Constitution, the Archduke placed a
mock-Ministry in office. The Prussian Government, declaring the vote of the 10th of
May to be a summons to civil war, ordered all Prussian deputies to withdraw from the
Assembly, and a few days later its example was imitated by Saxony and Hanover. On
the 20th of May sixty-five of the best known of the members, including Arndt and
Dahlmann, placed on record their belief that in the actual situation the relinquishment
of the task of the Assembly was the least of evils, and declared their work at Frankfort
ended. Other groups followed them till there remained only the party of the extreme
Left, which had hitherto been a weak minority, and which in no sense represented the
real opinions of Germany. This Rump-Parliament, troubling itself little with John and
his Ministers, determined to withdraw from Frankfort, where it dreaded the appearance
The end of the German Parliament, on which the nation had set such high hopes and to
which it had sent so much of what was noblest in itself, contrasted lamentably with the
splendour of its opening. Whether a better result would have been attained if, instead of
claiming supreme authority in the construction of Federal union, the Assembly had
from the first sought the co-operation of the Governments, must remain matter of
conjecture. Austria would under all circumstances have been the great hindrance in the
way; and after the failure of the efforts made at Frankfort to establish the general union
of Germany, Austria was able completely to frustrate the attempts which were now
made at Berlin to establish partial union upon a different basis. In notifying to the
Assembly his refusal of the Imperial Crown, King Frederick William had stated that he
was resolved to place himself at the head of a Federation to be formed by States
voluntarily uniting with him under terms to be subsequently arranged; and in a circular
note addressed to the German Governments he invited such as were disposed to take
counsel with Prussia to unite in Conference at Berlin. The opening of the Conference
was fixed for the 17th of May. Two days before this the King issued a proclamation to
the Prussian people announcing that in spite of the failure of the Assembly of Frankfort
a German union was still to be formed. When the Conference opened at Berlin, no
envoys appeared but those of Austria, Saxony, Hanover, and Bavaria. The Austrian
representative withdrew at the end of the first sitting, the Bavarian rather later, leaving
Prussia to lay such foundations as it could for German unity with the temporising
support of Saxony and Hanover. A confederation was formed, known as the League of
the Three Kingdoms. An undertaking was given that a Federal Parliament should be
summoned, and that a Constitution should be made jointly by this Parliament and the
Governments (May 26th). On the 11th of June the draft of a Federal Constitution was
published. As the King of Prussia was apparently acting in good faith, and the
draft-Constitution in spite of some defects seemed to afford a fair basis for union, the
question now arose among the leaders of the German national movement whether the
twenty-eight States which had accepted the ill-fated Constitution of Frankfort ought or
ought not to enter the new Prussian League. A meeting of a hundred and fifty
ex-members of the Frankfort Parliament was held at Gotha; and although great
indignation was expressed by the more democratic faction, it was determined that the
scheme now put forward by Prussia deserved a fair trial. The whole of the twenty-eight
minor States consequently entered the League, which thus embraced all Germany with
[Prussia in 1849.]
It was not until the 20th of March, 1850, that the Federal Parliament, which had been
promised ten months before on the incorporation of the new League, assembled at
Erfurt. In the meantime reaction had gone far in many a German State. In Prussia, after
the dissolution of the Lower Chamber on April 27th, 1849, the King had abrogated the
electoral provisions of the Constitution so recently granted by himself, and had
substituted for them a system based on the representation of classes. Treating this act as
a breach of faith, the Democratic party had abstained from voting at the elections, with
the result that in the Berlin Parliament of 1850 Conservatives, Reactionists, and
officials formed the great majority. The revision of the Prussian Constitution, promised
at first as a concession to Liberalism, was conducted in the opposite sense. The King
demanded the strengthening of monarchical power; the Feudalists, going far beyond
him, attacked the municipal and social reforms of the last two years, and sought to lead
Prussia back to the system of its mediæval estates. It was in the midst of this victory of
reaction in Prussia that the Federal Parliament at Erfurt began its sittings. Though the
moderate Liberals, led by Gagern and other tried politicians of Frankfurt, held the
majority in both Houses, a strong Absolutist party from Prussia confronted them, and it
soon became clear that the Prussian Government was ready to play into the hands of
this party. The draft of the Federal Constitution, which had been made at Berlin, was
presented, according to the undertaking of May 28th, 1849, to the Erfurt Assembly.
Aware of the gathering strength of the reaction and of the danger of delay, the Liberal
majority declared itself ready to pass the draft into law without a single alteration. The
reactionary minority demanded that a revision should take place; and, to the scandal of
all who understood the methods or the spirit of Parliamentary rule, the Prussian
Ministers united with the party which demanded alterations in the project which they
themselves had brought forward. A compromise was ultimately effected; but the action
of the Court of Prussia and the conduct of its Ministers throughout the Erfurt debates
struck with deep despondency those who had believed that Frederick William might
still effect the work in which the Assembly of Frankfort had failed. The trust in the
King's sincerity or consistence of purpose sank low. The sympathy of the national
Liberal party throughout Germany was to a great extent alienated from Prussia; while,
if any expectation existed at Berlin that the adoption of a reactionary policy would
disarm the hostility of the Austrian Government to the new League, this hope was
[Action of Austria.]
Austria had from the first protested against the attempt of the King of Prussia to
establish any new form of union in Germany, and had declared that it would recognise
none of the conclusions of the Federal Parliament of Erfurt. According to the theory
now advanced by the Cabinet of Vienna the ancient Federal Constitution of Germany
was still in force. All that had happened since March, 1848, was so much wanton and
futile mischief-making. The disturbance of order had at length come to an end, and
with the exit of the rioters the legitimate powers re-entered into their rights.
Accordingly, there could be no question of the establishment of new Leagues. The old
relation of all the German States to one another under the ascendency of Austria
remained in full strength; the Diet of Frankfort, which had merely suspended its
functions and by no means suffered extinction, was still the legitimate central authority.
That some modifications might be necessary in the ancient Constitution was the most
that Austria was willing to admit. This, however, was an affair not for the German
people but for its rulers, and Austria accordingly invited all the Governments to a
Congress at Frankfort where the changes necessary might be discussed. In reply to this
summons, Prussia strenuously denied that the old Federal Constitution was still in
existence. The princes of the numerous petty States which were included in the new
Union assembled at Berlin round Frederick William, and resolved that they would not
attend the Conference at Frankfort except under reservations and conditions which
Austria would not admit. Arguments and counter-arguments were exchanged; but the
controversy between an old and a new Germany was one to be decided by force of will
or force of arms, not by political logic. The struggle was to be one between Prussia and
Austria, and the Austrian Cabinet had well gauged the temper of its opponent. A direct
summons to submission would have roused all the King's pride, and have been
answered by war. Before demanding from Frederick William the dissolution of the
Union which he had founded, Schwarzenberg determined to fix upon a quarrel in
which the King should be perplexed or alarmed at the results of his own policy. The
dominant conviction in the mind of Frederick William was that of the sanctity of
monarchical rule. If the League of Berlin could be committed to some enterprise hostile
to monarchical power, and could be charged with an alliance with rebellion, Frederick
William would probably falter in his resolutions, and a resort to arms, for which,
however, Austria was well prepared, would become unnecessary.[452]
[Hesse-Cassel.]
Among the States whose Governments had been forced by public opinion to join the
new Federation was the Electorate of Hesse-Cassel. The Elector was, like his
predecessors, a thorough despot at heart, and chafed under the restrictions which a
constitutional system imposed upon his rule. Acting under Austrian instigation, he
[Schleswig-Holstein.]
It was with deep disappointment and humiliation that the Liberals of Germany, and all
in whom the hatred of democratic change had not overpowered the love of country,
witnessed the issue of the movement of 1848. In so far as that movement was one
directed towards national union it had totally failed, and the state of things that had
existed before 1848 was restored without change. As a movement of constitutional and
social reform, it had not been so entirely vain; nor in this respect can it be said that
Germany after the year 1848 returned altogether to what it was before it. Many of the
leading figures of the earlier time re-appeared indeed with more or less of lustre upon
the stage. Metternich though excluded from office by younger men, beamed upon
Vienna with the serenity of a prophet who had lived to see most of his enemies shot
and of a martyr who had returned to one of the most enviable Salons in Europe. No
dynasty lost its throne, no class of the population had been struck down with
proscription as were the clergy and the nobles of France fifty years before. Yet the
traveller familiar with Germany before the revolution found that much of the old had
now vanished, much of a new world come into being. It was not sought by the
re-established Governments to undo at one stroke the whole of the political, the social,
the agrarian legislation of the preceding time, as in some other periods of reaction. The
nearest approach that was made to this was in a decree of the Diet annulling the
Declaration of Rights drawn up by the Frankfort Assembly, and requiring the
Governments to bring into conformity with the Federal Constitution all laws and
institutions made since the beginning of 1848. Parliamentary government was thereby
The powerlessness of Prussia was the measure of Austrian influence and prestige. The
contrast presented by Austria in 1848 and Austria in 1851 was indeed one that might
well arrest political observers. Its recovery had no doubt been effected partly by foreign
aid, and in the struggle with the Magyars a dangerous obligation had been incurred
towards Russia; but scarred and riven as the fabric was within, it was complete and
imposing without. Not one of the enemies who in 1848 had risen against the Court of
Vienna now remained standing. In Italy, Austria had won back what had appeared to be
hopelessly lost; in Germany it had more than vindicated its old claims. It had thrown its
rival to the ground, and the full measure of its ambition was perhaps even yet not
satisfied. "First to humiliate Prussia, then to destroy it," was the expression in which
Schwarzenberg summed up his German policy. Whether, with his undoubted firmness
and daring, the Minister possessed the intellectual qualities and the experience
necessary for the successful administration of an Empire built up, as Austria now was,
on violence and on the suppression of every national force, was doubted even by his
admirers. The proof, however, was not granted to him, for a sudden death carried him
off in his fourth year of power (April 5th, 1852). Weaker men succeeded to his task.
The epoch of military and diplomatic triumph was now ending, the gloomier side of the
reaction stood out unrelieved by any new succession of victories. Financial disorder
[Louis Napoleon.]
The European drama which began in 1848 had more of unity and more of
concentration in its opening than in its close. In Italy it ends with the fall of Venice; in
Germany the interest lingers till the days of Olmütz; in France there is no decisive
break in the action until the Coup d'Etat which, at the end of the year 1851, made Louis
Napoleon in all but name Emperor of France. The six million votes which had raised
Louis Napoleon to the Presidency of the Republic might well have filled with alarm all
who hoped for a future of constitutional rule; yet the warning conveyed by the election
seems to have been understood by but few. As the representative of order and
authority, as the declared enemy of Socialism, Louis Napoleon was on the same side as
the Parliamentary majority; he had even been supported in his candidature by
Parliamentary leaders such as M. Thiers. His victory was welcomed as a victory over
Socialism and the Red Republic; he had received some patronage from the official
party of order, and it was expected that, as nominal chief of the State, he would act as
the instrument of this party. He was an adventurer, but an adventurer with so little that
was imposing about him, that it scarcely occurred to men of influence in Paris to credit
The first year of Louis Napoleon's term of office was drawing to a close when a
message from him was delivered to the Assembly which seemed to announce an
immediate attack upon the Constitution. The Ministry in office was composed of men
of high Parliamentary position; it enjoyed the entire confidence of a great majority in
the Assembly, and had enforced with at least sufficient energy the measures of public
security which the President and the country seemed agreed in demanding. Suddenly,
on the 31st of October, the President announced to the Assembly by a message carried
by one of his aides-de-camp that the Ministry were dismissed. The reason assigned for
their dismissal was the want of unity within the Cabinet itself; but the language used by
the President announced much more than a ministerial change. "France, in the midst of
confusion, seeks for the hand, the will of him whom it elected on the 10th of
December. The victory won on that day was the victory of a system, for the name of
Napoleon is in itself a programme. It signifies order, authority, religion, national
prosperity within; national dignity without. It is this policy, inaugurated by my election,
that I desire to carry to triumph with the support of the Assembly and of the people." In
order to save the Republic from anarchy, to maintain the prestige of France among
other nations, the President declared that he needed men of action rather than of words;
yet when the list of the new Ministers appeared, it contained scarcely a single name of
weight. Louis Napoleon had called to office persons whose very obscurity had marked
them as his own instruments, and guaranteed to him the ascendency which he had not
hitherto possessed within the Cabinet. Satisfied with having given this proof of his
power, he resumed the appearance of respect, if not of cordiality, towards the
Assembly. He had learnt to beware of precipitate action; above two years of office
were still before him; and he had now done enough to make it clear to all who were
disposed to seek their fortunes in a new political cause that their services on his behalf
would be welcomed, and any excess of zeal more than pardoned. From this time there
grew up a party which had for its watchword the exaltation of Louis Napoleon and the
derision of the methods of Parliamentary government. Journalists, unsuccessful
politicians, adventurers of every description, were enlisted in the ranks of this obscure
but active band. For their acts and their utterances no one was responsible but
themselves. They were disavowed without compunction when their hardihood went too
far; but their ventures brought them no peril, and the generosity of the President was
not wanting to those who insisted on serving him in spite of himself.
The duration of the Presidency was fixed by the Constitution of 1848 at four years, and
it was enacted that the President should not be re-eligible to his dignity. By the
operation of certain laws imperfectly adjusted to one another, the tenure of office by
Louis Napoleon expired on the 8th of May, 1852, while the date for the dissolution of
the Assembly fell within a few weeks of this day. France was therefore threatened with
the dangers attending the almost simultaneous extinction of all authority. The perils of
1852 loomed only too visibly before the country, and Louis Napoleon addressed
willing hearers when, in the summer of 1850, he began to hint at the necessity of a
prolongation of his own power. The Parliamentary recess was employed by the
President in two journeys through the Departments; the first through those of the
south-east, where Socialism was most active, and where his appearance served at once
to prove his own confidence and to invigorate the friends of authority; the second
through Normandy, where the prevailing feeling was strongly in favour of firm
It was by means of the army that Louis Napoleon intended in the last resort to make
himself master of France, and the army had therefore to be won over to his personal
cause. The generals who had gained distinction either in the Algerian wars or in the
suppression of insurrection in France were without exception Orleanists or
Republicans. Not a single officer of eminence was as yet included in the Bonapartist
band. The President himself had never seen service except in a Swiss camp of exercise;
beyond his name he possessed nothing that could possibly touch the imagination of a
soldier. The heroic element not being discoverable in his person or his career, it
remained to work by more material methods. Louis Napoleon had learnt many things in
England, and had perhaps observed in the English elections of that period how much
may be effected by the simple means of money-bribes and strong drink. The saviour of
society was not ashamed to order the garrison of Paris double rations of brandy and to
distribute innumerable doles of half a franc or less. Military banquets were given, in
which the sergeant and the corporal sat side by side with the higher officers. Promotion
was skilfully offered or withheld. As the generals of the highest position were hostile to
Bonaparte, it was the easier to tempt their subordinates with the prospect of their
places. In the acclamations which greeted the President at the reviews held at Paris in
the autumn of 1850, in the behaviour both of officers and men in certain regiments, it
was seen how successful had been the emissaries of Bonapartism. The Committee
which represented the absent Chamber in vain called the Minister of War to account for
these irregularities. It was in vain that Changarnier, who, as commander both of the
National Guard of Paris and of the first military division, seemed to hold the
arbitrament between President and Assembly in his hands, openly declared at the
beginning of 1851 in favour of the Constitution. He was dismissed from his post; and
although a vote of censure which followed this dismissal led to the resignation of the
Ministry, the Assembly was unable to reinstate Changarnier in his command, and
helplessly witnessed the authority which he had held pass into hostile or untrustworthy
hands.
There now remained only one possible means of averting the attack upon the
Constitution which was so clearly threatened, and that was by subjecting the
Constitution itself to revision in order that Louis Napoleon might legally seek
re-election at the end of his Presidency. An overwhelming current of public opinion
pressed indeed in the direction of such a change. However gross and undisguised the
initiative of the local functionaries in preparing the petitions which showered upon the
Assembly, the national character of the demand could not be doubted. There was no
other candidate whose name carried with it any genuine popularity or prestige, or
around whom even the Parliamentary sections at enmity with the President could rally.
The Assembly was divided not very unevenly between Legitimists, Orleanists, and
Republicans. Had indeed the two monarchical groups been able to act in accord, they
might have had some hope of re-establishing the throne; and an attempt had already
been made to effect a union, on the understanding that the childless Comté de
Chambord should recognise the grandson of Louis Philippe as his heir, the House of
Orleans renouncing its claims during the lifetime of the chief of the elder line. These
plans had been frustrated by the refusal of the Comté de Chambord to sanction any
appeal to the popular vote, and the restoration of the monarchy was therefore hopeless
for the present. It remained for the Assembly to decide whether it would facilitate
Louis Napoleon's re-election as President by a revision of the Constitution or brave the
risk of his violent usurpation of power. The position was a sad and even humiliating
one for those who, while they could not disguise their real feeling towards the Prince,
yet knew themselves unable to count on the support of the nation if they should resist
him. The Legitimists, more sanguine in temper, kept in view an ultimate restoration of
the monarchy, and lent themselves gladly to any policy which might weaken the
constitutional safeguards of the Republic. The Republican minority alone determined to
resist any proposal for revision, and to stake everything upon the maintenance of the
constitution in its existing form. Weak as the Republicans were as compared with the
other groups in the Assembly when united against them, they were yet strong enough to
prevent the Ministry from securing that majority of three-fourths without which the
revision of the Constitution could not be undertaken. Four hundred and fifty votes were
given in favour of revision, two hundred and seventy against it (July 19th). The
proposal therefore fell to the ground, and Louis Napoleon, who could already charge
the Assembly with having by its majority destroyed universal suffrage, could now
charge it with having by its minority forbidden the nation to choose its own head.
Nothing more was needed by him. He had only to decide upon the time and the
circumstances of the coup d'état which was to rid him of his adversaries and to make
him master of France.
Louis Napoleon had few intimate confidants; the chief among these were his
half-brother Morny, one of the illegitimate offspring of Queen Hortense, a man of
fashion and speculator in the stocks; Fialin or Persigny, a person of humble origin who
had proved himself a devoted follower of the Prince through good and evil; and Fleury,
an officer at this time on a mission in Algiers. These were not men out of whom Louis
Preparations for the coup d'état had been so far advanced in September that a majority
of the conspirators had then urged Louis Napoleon to strike the blow without delay,
while the members of the Assembly were still dispersed over France in the vacation. St.
Arnaud, however, refused his assent, declaring that the deputies, if left free, would
assemble at a distance from Paris, summon to them the generals loyal to the
Constitution, and commence a civil war. He urged that, in order to avoid greater
subsequent risks, it would be necessary to seize all the leading representatives and
generals from whom resistance might be expected, and to hold them under durance
until the crisis should be over. This simultaneous arrest of all the foremost public men
in France could only be effected at a time when the Assembly was sitting. St. Arnaud
therefore demanded that the coup d'état should be postponed till the winter. Another
reason made for delay. Little as the populace of Paris loved the reactionary Assembly,
Louis Napoleon was not altogether assured that it would quietly witness his own
usurpation of power. In waiting until the Chamber should again be in session, he saw
the opportunity of exhibiting his cause as that of the masses themselves, and of
justifying his action as the sole means of enforcing popular rights against a legislature
obstinately bent on denying them. Louis Napoleon's own Ministers had overthrown
universal suffrage. This might indeed be matter for comment on the part of the
censorious, but it was not a circumstance to stand in the way of the execution of a great
design. Accordingly Louis Napoleon determined to demand from the Assembly at the
opening of the winter session the repeal of the electoral law of May 31st, and to make
its refusal, on which he could confidently reckon, the occasion of its destruction.
The conspirators were up to this time conspirators and nothing more. A Ministry still
subsisted which was not initiated in the President's designs nor altogether at his
command. On his requiring that the repeal of the law of May 31st should be proposed
to the Assembly, the Cabinet resigned. The way to the highest functions of State was
thus finally opened for the agents of the coup d'état. St. Arnaud was placed at the War
Office, Maupas at the Préfecture of Police. The colleagues assigned to them were too
insignificant to exercise any control over their actions. At the reopening of the
Assembly on the 4th of November an energetic message from the President was read.
On the one hand he denounced a vast and perilous combination of all the most
dangerous elements of society which threatened to overwhelm France in the following
year; on the other hand he demanded, with certain undefined safeguards, the
re-establishment of universal suffrage. The middle classes were scared with the
prospect of a Socialist revolution; the Assembly was divided against itself, and the
democracy of Paris flattered by the homage paid to the popular vote. With very little
delay a measure repealing the Law of May 31st was introduced into the Assembly. It
was supported by the Republicans and by many members of the other groups; but the
majority of the Assembly, while anxious to devise some compromise, refused to
condemn its own work in the unqualified form on which the President insisted. The Bill
was thrown out by seven votes. Forthwith the rumour of an impending coup d'etat
spread through Paris. The Questors, or members charged with the safeguarding of the
Assembly, moved the resolutions necessary to enable them to secure sufficient military
aid. Even now prompt action might perhaps have saved the Chamber. But the
Republican deputies, incensed by their defeat on the question of universal suffrage,
plunged headlong into the snare set for them by the President, and combined with his
open or secret partisans to reject the proposition of the Questors. Changarnier had
blindly vouched for the fidelity of the army; one Republican deputy, more imaginative
than his colleagues, bade the Assembly confide in their invisible sentinel, the people.
Thus the majority of the Chamber, with the clearest warning of danger, insisted on
giving the aggressor every possible advantage. If the imbecility of opponents is the best
augury of success in a bold enterprise, the President had indeed little reason to
anticipate failure.
The execution of the coup d'etat was fixed for the early morning of December 2nd. On
the previous evening Louis Napoleon held a public reception at the Elysée, his quiet
self-possessed manner indicating nothing of the struggle at hand. Before the guests
dispersed the President withdrew to his study. There the last council of the conspirators
was held, and they parted, each to the execution of the work assigned to him. The
central element in the plan was the arrest of Cavaignac, of Changarnier and three other
generals who were members of the Assembly, of eleven civilian deputies including M.
Thiers, and of sixty-two other politicians of influence. Maupas summoned to the
The full meaning of these manifestoes was not at first understood by the groups who
read them. The Assembly was so unpopular that the announcement of its dissolution,
with the restoration of universal suffrage, pleased rather than alarmed the democratic
quarters of Paris. It was not until some hours had passed that the arrests became
generally known, and that the first symptoms of resistance appeared. Groups of
deputies assembled at the houses of the Parliamentary leaders; a body of fifty even
succeeded in entering the Palais Bourbon and in commencing a debate: they were,
however, soon dispersed by soldiers. Later in the day above two hundred members
assembled at the Mairie of the Tenth Arrondissement. There they passed resolutions
declaring the President removed from his office, and appointing a commander of the
troops at Paris. The first officers who were sent to clear the Mairie flinched in the
execution of their work, and withdrew for further orders. The Magistrates of the High
Court, whose duty it was to order the impeachment of the President in case of the
violation of his oath to the Constitution, assembled, and commenced the necessary
proceedings; but before they could sign a warrant, soldiers forced their way into the
hall and drove the judges from the Bench. In due course General Forey appeared with a
strong body of troops at the Mairie, where the two hundred deputies were assembled.
Refusing to disperse, they were one and all arrested, and conducted as prisoners
between files of troops to the Barracks of the Quai d'Orsay. The National Guard, whose
drums had been removed by their commander in view of any spontaneous movement to
arms, remained invisible. Louis Napoleon rode out amidst the acclamations of the
soldiery; and when the day closed it seemed as if Paris had resolved to accept the
[December 3.]
[December 4.]
There were, however, a few resolute men at work in the workmen's quarters; and in the
wealthier part of the city the outrage upon the National Representation gradually
roused a spirit of resistance. On the morning of December 3rd the Deputy Baudin met
with his death in attempting to defend a barricade which had been erected in the
Faubourg St. Antoine. The artisans of eastern Paris showed, however, little inclination
to take up arms on behalf of those who had crushed them in the Four Days of June; the
agitation was strongest within the Boulevards, and spread westwards towards the
stateliest district of Paris. The barricades erected on the south of the Boulevards were
so numerous, the crowds so formidable, that towards the close of the day the troops
were withdrawn, and it was determined that after a night of quiet they should make a
general attack and end the struggle at one blow. At midday on December 4th divisions
of the army converged from all directions upon the insurgent quarter. The barricades
were captured or levelled by artillery, and with a loss on the part of the troops of
twenty-eight killed, and a hundred and eighty wounded resistance was overcome. But
the soldiers had been taught to regard the inhabitants of Paris as their enemies, and they
bettered the instructions given them. Maddened by drink or panic, they commenced
indiscriminate firing in the Boulevards after the conflict was over, and slaughtered all
who either in the street or at the windows of the houses came within range of their
bullets. According to official admissions, the lives of sixteen civilians paid for every
soldier slain; independent estimates place far higher the number of the victims of this
massacre. Two thousand arrests followed, and every Frenchman who appeared
dangerous to Louis Napoleon's myrmidons, from Thiers and Victor Hugo down to the
anarchist orators of the wineshops, was either transported, exiled, or lodged in prison.
Thus was the Republic preserved and society saved.
France in general received the news of the coup d'etat with indifference: where it
excited popular movements these movements were of such a character that Louis
Napoleon drew from them the utmost profit. A certain fierce, blind Socialism had
spread among the poorest of the rural classes in the centre and south of France. In these
departments there were isolated risings, accompanied by acts of such murderous
outrage and folly that a general terror seized the surrounding districts. In the course of a
few days the predatory bands were dispersed, and an unsparing chastisement inflicted
on all who were concerned in their misdeeds; but the reports sent to Paris were too
serviceable to Louis Napoleon to be left in obscurity; and these brutish
village-outbreaks, which collapsed at the first appearance of a handful of soldiers, were
represented as the prelude to a vast Socialist revolution from which the coup d'etat, and
that alone, had saved France. Terrified by the re-appearance of the Red Spectre, the
French nation proceeded on the 20th of December to pass its judgment on the
accomplished usurpation. The question submitted for the plebiscite was, whether the
people desired the maintenance of Louis Napoleon's authority and committed to him
the necessary powers for establishing a Constitution on the basis laid down in his
CHAPTER XXI.
[England in 1851.]
The year 1851 was memorable in England as that of the Great Exhibition. Thirty-six
years of peace, marked by an enormous development of manufacturing industry, by the
introduction of railroads, and by the victory of the principle of Free Trade, had
culminated in a spectacle so impressive and so novel that to many it seemed the
emblem and harbinger of a new epoch in the history of mankind, in which war should
cease, and the rivalry of nations should at length find its true scope in the advancement
of the arts of peace. The apostles of Free Trade had idealised the cause for which they
contended. The unhappiness and the crimes of nations had, as they held, been due
The plans formed by the Empress Catherine in the last century for the restoration of the
Greek Empire under a prince of the Russian House had long been abandoned at St.
Petersburg. The later aim of Russian policy found its clearest expression in the Treaty
of Unkiar Skelessi, extorted from Sultan Mahmud in 1833 in the course of the first war
against Mehemet Ali. This Treaty, if it had not been set aside by the Western Powers,
would have made the Ottoman Empire a vassal State under the Czar's protection. In the
In 1844 Nicholas visited England. The object of his journey was to sound the Court and
Government, and to lay the foundation for concerted action between Russia and
England, to the exclusion of France, when circumstances should bring about the
dissolution of the Ottoman Empire, an event which the Czar believed to be not far off.
Peel was then Prime Minister; Lord Aberdeen was Foreign Secretary. Aberdeen had
begun his political career in a diplomatic mission to the Allied Armies in 1814. His
feelings towards Russia were those of a loyal friend towards an old ally; and the
remembrance of the epoch of 1814, when the young Nicholas had made acquaintance
with Lord Aberdeen in France, appears to have given to the Czar a peculiar sense of
confidence in the goodwill of the English Minister towards himself. Nicholas spoke
freely with Aberdeen, as well as with Peel and Wellington, on the impending fall of the
Ottoman Empire. "We have," he said, "a sick, a dying man on our hands. We must keep
him alive so long as it is possible to do so, but we must frankly take into view all
contingencies. I wish for no inch of Turkish soil myself, but neither will I permit any
other Power to seize an inch of it. France, which has designs upon Africa, upon the
Mediterranean, and upon the East, is the only Power to be feared. An understanding
between England and Russia will preserve the peace of Europe." If the Czar pursued
his speculations further into detail, of which there is no evidence, he elicited no
response. He was heard with caution, and his visit appears to have produced nothing
more than the formal expression of a desire on the part of the British Government that
the existing treaty-rights of Russia should be respected by the Porte, together with an
unmeaning promise that, if unexpected events should occur in Turkey, Russia and
England should enter into counsel as to the best course of action to be pursued in
common. [455]
[Nicholas in 1848.]
Nicholas, whether from policy or from a sense of kingly honour which at most times
powerfully influenced him, did not avail himself of the prostration of the Continental
Powers in 1848 to attack Turkey. He detested revolution, as a crime against the
divinely ordered subjection of nations to their rulers, and would probably have felt
himself degraded had he, in the spirit of his predecessor Catherine, turned the
calamities of his brother-monarchs to his own separate advantage. It accorded better
with his proud nature, possibly also with the schemes of a far-reaching policy, for
Russia to enter the field as the protector of the Hapsburgs against the rebel Hungarians
than for its armies to snatch from the Porte what the lapse of time and the goodwill of
European allies would probably give to Russia at no distant date without a struggle.
Disturbances at Bucharest and at Jassy led indeed to a Russian intervention in the
The coup d'état of Louis Napoleon at the end of the year 1851 was witnessed by the
Czar with sympathy and admiration as a service to the cause of order; but the
assumption of the Imperial title by the Prince displeased him exceedingly. While not
refusing to recognise Napoleon III., he declined to address him by the term (mon frère)
usually employed by monarchs in writing to one another. In addition to the question
relating to the Hungarian refugees, a dispute concerning the Holy Places in Palestine
threatened to cause strife between France and Russia. The same wave of religious and
theological interest which in England produced the Tractarian movement brought into
the arena of political life in France an enthusiasm for the Church long strange to the
Legislature and the governing circles of Paris. In the Assembly of 1849 Montalembert,
the spokesman of this militant Catholicism, was one of the foremost figures. Louis
Napoleon, as President, sought the favour of those whom Montalembert led; and the
same Government which restored the Pope to Rome demanded from the Porte a stricter
enforcement of the rights of the Latin Church in the East. The earliest Christian legends
had been localised in various spots around Jerusalem. These had been in the ages of
faith the goal of countless pilgrimages, and in more recent centuries they had formed
the object of treaties between the Porte and France. Greek monks, however, disputed
with Latin monks for the guardianship of the Holy Places; and as the power of Russia
grew, the privileges of the Greek monks had increased. The claims of the rival
brotherhoods, which related to doors, keys, stars and lamps, might probably have been
settled to the satisfaction of all parties within a few hours by an experienced
Nicholas treated the conduct of the Porte as an outrage upon himself. A conflict which
had broken out between the Sultan and the Montenegrins, and which now threatened to
take a deadly form, confirmed the Czar in his belief that the time for resolute action had
arrived. At the beginning of the year 1853 he addressed himself to Hamilton Seymour,
British ambassador at St. Petersburg, in terms much stronger and clearer than those
which he had used towards Lord Aberdeen nine years before. "The Sick Man," he said,
"was in extremities; the time had come for a clear understanding between England and
Russia. The occupation of Constantinople by Russian troops might be necessary, but
the Czar would not hold it permanently. He would not permit any other Power to
establish itself at the Bosphorus, neither would he permit the Ottoman Empire to be
broken up into Republics to afford a refuge to the Mazzinis and the Kossuths of
Europe. The Danubian Principalities were already independent States under Russian
protection. The other possessions of the Sultan north of the Balkans might be placed on
the same footing. England might annex Egypt and Crete." After making this
communication to the British ambassador, and receiving the reply that England
declined to enter into any schemes based on the fall of the Turkish Empire and
disclaimed all desire for the annexation of any part of the Sultan's dominions, Nicholas
despatched Prince Menschikoff to Constantinople, to demand from the Porte not only
an immediate settlement of the questions relating to the Holy Places, but a Treaty
guaranteeing to the Greek Church the undisturbed enjoyment of all its ancient rights
and the benefit of all privileges that might be accorded by the Porte to any other
Christian communities. [458]
The Treaty which Menschikoff was instructed to demand would have placed the Sultan
and the Czar in the position of contracting parties with regard to the entire body of
rights and privileges enjoyed by the Sultan's subjects of the Greek confession, and
would so have made the violation of these rights in the case of any individual Christian
a matter entitling Russia to interfere, or to claim satisfaction as for the breach of a
Treaty engagement. By the Treaty of Kainardjie (1774) the Sultan had indeed bound
himself "to protect the Christian religion and its Churches"; but this phrase was too
indistinct to create specific matter of Treaty-obligation; and if it had given to Russia
any general right of interference on behalf of members of the Greek Church, it would
have given it the same right in behalf of all the Roman Catholics and all the Protestants
in the Sultan's dominions, a right which the Czars had never professed to enjoy.
Moreover, the Treaty of Kainardjie itself forbade by implication any such construction,
for it mentioned by name one ecclesiastical building for whose priests the Porte did
concede to Russia the right of addressing representations to the Sultan. Over the
When Menschikoff reached Constantinople the British Embassy was in the hands of a
subordinate officer. The Ambassador, Sir Stratford Canning, had recently returned to
England. Stratford Canning, a cousin of the Premier, had been employed in the East at
intervals since 1810. There had been a period in his career when he had desired to see
the Turk expelled from Europe as an incurable barbarian; but the reforms of Sultan
Mahmud had at a later time excited his warm interest and sympathy, and as
Ambassador at Constantinople from 1842 to 1852 he had laboured strenuously for the
regeneration of the Turkish Empire, and for the improvement of the condition of the
Christian races under the Sultan's rule. His dauntless, sustained energy, his noble
presence, the sincerity of his friendship towards the Porte, gave him an influence at
Constantinople seldom, if ever, exercised by a foreign statesman. There were moments
when he seemed to be achieving results of some value; but the task which he had
attempted was one that surpassed human power; and after ten years so spent as to win
for him the fame of the greatest ambassador by whom England has been represented in
modern times, he declared that the prospects of Turkish reform were hopeless, and left
Constantinople, not intending to return. [460] Before his successor had been appointed,
the mission of Prince Menschikoff, the violence of his behaviour at Constantinople,
and a rumour that he sought far more than his ostensible object, alarmed the British
Government. Canning was asked to resume his post. Returning to Constantinople as
Lord Stratford de Redcliffe, he communicated on his journey with the Courts of Paris
and Vienna, and carried with him authority to order the Admiral of the fleet at Malta to
hold his ships in readiness to sail for the East. He arrived at the Bosphorus on April 5th,
learnt at once the real situation of affairs, and entered into negotiation with
Menschikoff. The Russian, a mere child in diplomacy in comparison with his rival,
suffered himself to be persuaded to separate the question of the Holy Places from that
of the guarantee of the rights of the Greek Church. In the first matter Russia had a good
cause; in the second it was advancing a new claim. The two being dissociated, Stratford
had no difficulty in negotiating a compromise on the Holy Places satisfactory to the
Czar's representative; and the demand for the Protectorate over the Greek Christians
now stood out unobscured by those grievances of detail with which it had been at first
interwoven. Stratford encouraged the Turkish Government to reject the Russian
proposal. Knowing, nevertheless, that Menschikoff would in the last resort endeavour
to intimidate the Sultan personally, he withheld from the Ministers, in view of this last
peril, the strongest of all his arguments; and seeking a private audience with the Sultan
[English Policy.]
In the ordinary course of affairs the invasion of the territory of one Empire by the
troops of another is, and can be nothing else than, an act of war, necessitating hostilities
as a measure of defence on the part of the Power invaded. But the Czar protested that in
taking the Danubian Principalities in pledge he had no intention of violating the peace;
and as yet the common sense of the Turks, as well as the counsels that they received
from without, bade them hesitate before issuing a declaration of war. Since December,
1852, Lord Aberdeen had been Prime Minister of England, at the head of a Cabinet
formed by a coalition between followers of Sir Robert Peel and the Whig leaders
Palmerston and Russell. [462] There was no man in England more pacific in
disposition, or more anxious to remain on terms of honourable friendship with Russia,
than Lord Aberdeen. The Czar had justly reckoned on the Premier's own forbearance;
but he had failed to recognise the strength of those forces which, both within and
without the Cabinet, set in the direction of armed resistance to Russia. Palmerston was
keen for action. Lord Stratford appears to have taken it for granted from the first that, if
a war should arise between the Sultan and the Czar in consequence of the rejection of
Menschikoff's demand, Great Britain would fight in defence of the Ottoman Empire.
He had not stated this in express terms, but the communication which he made to the
Sultan regarding his own instructions could only have been intended to convey this
impression. If the fleet was not to defend the Sultan, it was a mere piece of deceit to
inform him that the Ambassador had powers to place it in readiness to sail; and such
deceit was as alien to the character of Lord Stratford as the assumption of a virtual
engagement towards the Sultan was in keeping with his imperious will and his
passionate conviction of the duty of England. From the date of Lord Stratford's visit to
the Palace, although no Treaty or agreement was in existence, England stood bound in
honour, so long as the Turks should pursue the policy laid down by her envoy, to fulfil
the expectations which this envoy had held out.
[Constantinople in September.]
Had Lord Stratford been at the head of the Government, the policy and intentions of
Great Britain would no doubt have been announced with such distinctness that the Czar
The Turks themselves had certainly not understood the declaration of the Emperor
Nicholas as assuring their squadron at Sinope against attack; and so far was the
Ottoman Admiral from being the victim of a surprise that he had warned his
Government some days before of the probability of his own destruction. But to the
English people, indignant with Russia since its destruction of Hungarian liberty and its
tyrannous demand for the surrender of the Hungarian refugees, all that now passed
heaped up the intolerable sum of autocratic violence and deceit. The cannonade which
was continued against the Turkish crews at Sinope long after they had become
defenceless gave to the battle the aspect of a massacre; the supposed promise of the
Czar to act only on the defensive caused it to be denounced as an act of flagrant
treachery; the circumstance that the Turkish fleet was lying within one of the Sultan's
harbours, touching as it were the territory which the navy of England had undertaken to
protect, imparted to the attack the character of a direct challenge and defiance to
England. The cry rose loud for war. Napoleon, eager for the alliance with England,
eager in conjunction with England to play a great part before Europe, even at the cost
of a war from which France had nothing to gain, proposed that the combined fleets
[Policy of Austria.]
The Czar had at one time believed that in his Eastern schemes he was sure of the
support of Austria; and he had strong reasons for supposing himself entitled to its aid.
But his mode of thought was simpler than that of the Court of Vienna. Schwarzenberg,
when it was remarked that the intervention of Russia in Hungary would bind the House
of Hapsburg too closely to its protector, had made the memorable answer, "We will
astonish the world by our ingratitude." It is possible that an instance of Austrian
gratitude would have astonished the world most of all; but Schwarzenberg's successors
were not the men to sacrifice a sound principle to romance. Two courses of Eastern
policy have, under various modifications, had their advocates in rival schools of
statesmen at Vienna. The one is that of expansion southward in concert with Russia;
the other is that of resistance to the extension of Russian power, and the consequent
maintenance of the integrity of the Ottoman Empire. During Metternich's long rule,
inspired as this was by a faith in the Treaties and the institutions of 1815, and by the
dread of every living, disturbing force, the second of these systems had been
consistently followed. In 1854 the determining motive of the Court of Vienna was not a
decided political conviction, but the certainty that if it united with Russia it would be
brought into war with the Western Powers. Had Russia and Turkey been likely to
remain alone in the arena, an arrangement for territorial compensation would possibly,
as on some other occasions, have won for the Czar an Austrian alliance. Combination
against Turkey was, however, at the present time, too perilous an enterprise for the
Austrian monarchy; and, as nothing was to be gained through the war, it remained for
the Viennese diplomatists to see that nothing was lost and as little as possible wasted.
The presence of Russian troops in the Principalities, where they controlled the Danube
in its course between the Hungarian frontier and the Black Sea, was, in default of some
definite understanding, a danger to Austria; and Count Buol, the Minister at Vienna,
had therefore every reason to thank the Western Powers for insisting on the evacuation
of this district. When France and England were burning to take up arms, it would have
been a piece of superfluous brutality towards the Czar for Austria to attach to its own
demand for the evacuation of the Principalities the threat of war. But this evacuation
Austria was determined to enforce. It refused, as did Prussia, to give to the Czar the
assurance of its neutrality; and, inasmuch as the free navigation of the Danube as far as
the Black Sea had now become recognised as one of the commercial interests of
Germany at large, Prussia and the German Federation undertook to protect the territory
of Austria, if, in taking the measures necessary to free the Principalities, it should itself
be attacked by Russia. [467]
[Prussia.]
The King of Prussia, clouded as his mind was by political and religious phantasms, had
nevertheless at times a larger range of view than his neighbours; and his opinion as to
the true solution of the difficulties between Nicholas and the Porte, at the time of
Menschikoff's mission, deserved more attention than it received. Frederick William
proposed that the rights of the Christian subjects of the Sultan should be placed by
Treaty under the guarantee of all the Great Powers. This project was opposed by Lord
Stratford and the Turkish Ministers as an encroachment on the Sultan's sovereignty,
and its rejection led the King to write with some asperity to his ambassador in London
that he should seek the welfare of Prussia in absolute neutrality. [468] At a later period
the King demanded from England, as the condition of any assistance from himself, a
guarantee for the maintenance of the frontiers of Germany and Prussia. He regarded
Napoleon III. as the representative of a revolutionary system, and believed that under
him French armies would soon endeavour to overthrow the order of Europe established
in 1815. That England should enter into a close alliance with this man excited the
King's astonishment and disgust; and unless the Cabinet of London were prepared to
give a guarantee against any future attack on Germany by the French Emperor, who
was believed to be ready for every political adventure, it was vain for England to seek
Prussia's aid. Lord Aberdeen could give no such guarantee; still less could he gratify
the King's strangely passionate demand for the restoration of his authority in the Swiss
canton of Neuchâtel, which before 1848 had belonged in name to the Hohenzollerns.
Many influences were brought to bear upon the King from the side both of England and
of Russia. The English Court and Ministers, strenuously supported by Bunsen, the
Prussian ambassador, strove to enlist the King in an active concert of Europe against
Russia by dwelling on the duties of Prussia as a Great Power and the dangers arising to
it from isolation. On the other hand, the admiration felt by Frederick William for the
Emperor Nicholas, and the old habitual friendship between Prussia and Russia, gave
strength to the Czar's advocates at Berlin. Schemes for a reconstruction of Europe,
which were devised by Napoleon, and supposed to receive some countenance from
Palmerston, reached the King's ear. [469] He heard that Austria was to be offered the
Danubian Provinces upon condition of giving up northern Italy; that Piedmont was to
receive Lombardy, and in return to surrender Savoy to France; that, if Austria should
decline to unite actively with the Western Powers, revolutionary movements were to be
stirred up in Italy and in Hungary. Such reports kindled the King's rage. "Be under no
illusion," he wrote to his ambassador; "tell the British Ministers in their private ear and
on the housetops that I will not suffer Austria to be attacked by the revolution without
drawing the sword in its defence. If England and France let loose revolution as their
ally, be it where it may, I unite with Russia for life and death." Bunsen advocated the
participation of Prussia in the European concert with more earnestness than success.
While the King was declaiming against the lawlessness which was supposed to have
spread from the Tuileries to Downing Street, Bunsen, on his own authority, sent to
Berlin a project for the annexation of Russian territory by Prussia as a reward for its
alliance with the Western Courts. This document fell into the hands of the Russian
party at Berlin, and it roused the King's own indignation. Bitter reproaches were
launched against the authors of so felonious a scheme. Bunsen could no longer retain
The situation of the European Powers in April, 1854, was thus a very strange one. All
the Four Powers were agreed in demanding the evacuation of the Principalities by
Russia, and in the resolution to enforce this, if necessary, by arms. Protocols witnessing
this agreement were signed on the 9th of April and the 23rd of May, [470] and it was
moreover declared that the Four Powers recognised the necessity of maintaining the
independence and the integrity of the Ottoman Empire. But France and England, while
they made the presence of the Russians in the Principalities the avowed cause of war,
had in reality other intentions than the mere expulsion of the intruder and the
restoration of the state of things previously existing. It was their desire so to cripple
Russia that it should not again be in a condition to menace the Ottoman Empire. This
intention made it impossible for the British Cabinet to name, as the basis of a European
league, that single definite object for which, and for which alone, all the Powers were
in May, 1854, ready to unite in arms. England, the nation and the Government alike,
chose rather to devote itself, in company with France, to the task of indefinitely
weakening Russia than, in company with all Europe, to force Russia to one humiliating
but inevitable act of submission. Whether in the prosecution of their ulterior objects the
Western Courts might or might not receive some armed assistance from Austria and
Prussia no man could yet predict with confidence. That Austria would to some extent
make common cause with the Allies seemed not unlikely; that Prussia would do so
there was no real ground to believe; on the contrary, fair warning had been given that
there were contingencies in which Prussia might ultimately be found on the side of the
Czar. Striving to the utmost to discover some principle, some object, or even some
formula which might expand the purely defensive basis accepted by Austria and
Prussia into a common policy of reconstructive action, the Western Powers could
obtain nothing more definite from the Conference at Vienna than the following
shadowy engagement:-"The Four Governments engage to endeavour in common to
discover the guarantees most likely to attach the existence of the Ottoman Empire to
the general equilibrium of Europe. They are ready to deliberate as to the employment
of means calculated to accomplish the object of their agreement." This readiness to
deliberate, so cautiously professed, was a quality in which during the two succeeding
years the Courts of Vienna and Berlin were not found wanting; but the war in which
England and France now engaged was one which they had undertaken at their own risk,
and they discovered little anxiety on any side to share their labour.
During the winter of 1853 and the first weeks of the following year hostilities of an
indecisive character continued between the Turks and the Russians on the Danube. At
the outbreak of the war Nicholas had consulted the veteran Paskiewitsch as to the best
road by which to march on Constantinople. Paskiewitsch, as a strategist, knew the
danger to which a Russian force crossing the Danube would be exposed from the
presence of Austrian armies on its flank; as commander in the invasion of Hungary in
1849 he had encountered, as he believed, ill faith and base dealing on the part of his
ally, and had repaid it with insult and scorn; he had learnt better than any other man the
With the liberation of the Principalities the avowed ground of war passed away; but the
Western Powers had no intention of making peace without further concessions on the
part of Russia. As soon as the siege of Silistria was raised instructions were sent to the
commanders of the allied armies at Varna, pressing, if not absolutely commanding,
them to attack Sebastopol, the headquarters of Russian maritime power in the Euxine.
The capture of Sebastopol had been indicated some months before by Napoleon III. as
the most effective blow that could be dealt to Russia. It was from Sebastopol that the
fleet had issued which destroyed the Turks at Sinope: until this arsenal had fallen, the
growing naval might which pressed even more directly upon Constantinople than the
neighbourhood of the Czar's armies by land could not be permanently laid low. The
objects sought by England and France were now gradually brought into sufficient
clearness to be communicated to the other Powers, though the more precise
interpretation of the conditions laid down remained open for future discussion. It was
announced that the Protectorate of Russia over the Danubian Principalities and Servia
must be abolished; that the navigation of the Danube at its mouths must be freed from
all obstacles; that the Treaty of July, 1841, relating to the Black Sea and the
Dardanelles, must be revised in the interest of the balance of power in Europe; and that
the claim to any official Protectorate over Christian subjects of the Porte, of whatever
rite, must be abandoned by the Czar. Though these conditions, known as the Four
Points, were not approved by Prussia, they were accepted by Austria in August, 1854,
and were laid before Russia as the basis of any negotiation for peace. The Czar
declared in answer that Russia would only negotiate on such a basis when at the last
extremity. The Allied Governments, measuring their enemy's weakness by his failure
before Silistria, were determined to accept nothing less; and the attack upon
Sebastopol, ordered before the evacuation of the Principalities, was consequently
allowed to take its course. [471]
[Sebastopol.]
The Roadstead, or Great Harbour, of Sebastopol runs due eastwards inland from a point
not far from the south-western extremity of the Crimea. One mile from the open sea its
waters divide, the larger arm still running eastwards till it meets the River Tchernaya,
the smaller arm, known as the Man-of-War Harbour, bending sharply to the south. On
both sides of this smaller harbour Sebastopol is built. To the seaward, that is from the
smaller harbour westwards, Sebastopol and its approaches were thoroughly fortified.
On its landward, southern, side the town had been open till 1853, and it was still but
imperfectly protected, most weakly on the south-eastern side. On the north of the Great
Harbour Fort Constantine at the head of a line of strong defences guarded the entrance
from the sea; while on the high ground immediately opposite Sebastopol and
commanding the town there stood the Star Fort with other military constructions. The
general features of Sebastopol were known to the Allied commanders; they had,
however, no precise information as to the force by which it was held, nor as to the
armament of its fortifications. It was determined that the landing should be made in the
Bay of Eupatoria, thirty miles north of the fortress. Here, on the 14th of September, the
Allied forces, numbering about thirty thousand French, twenty-seven thousand English,
and seven thousand Turks, effected their disembarkation without meeting any
resistance. The Russians, commanded by Prince Menschikoff, lately envoy at
Constantinople, had taken post ten miles further south on high ground behind the River
Alma. On the 20th of September they were attacked in front by the English, while the
French attempted a turning movement from the sea. The battle was a scene of
confusion, and for a moment the assault of the English seemed to be rolled back. But it
was renewed with ever increasing vigour, and before the French had made any
impression on the Russian left Lord Raglan's troops had driven the enemy from their
positions. Struck on the flank when their front was already broken, outnumbered and
badly led, the Russians gave up all for lost. The form of an orderly retreat was
maintained only long enough to disguise from the conquerors the completeness of their
victory. When night fell the Russian army abandoned itself to total disorder, and had
the pursuit been made at once it could scarcely have escaped destruction. But St.
Arnaud, who was in the last stage of mortal illness, refused, in spite of the appeal of
Lord Raglan, to press on his wearied troops. Menschikoff, abandoning the hope of
checking the advance of the Allies in a second battle, and anxious only to prevent the
capture of Sebastopol by an enemy supposed to be following at his heels, retired into
the fortress, and there sank seven of his war-ships as a barrier across the mouth of the
Great Harbour, mooring the rest within. The crews were brought on shore to serve in
the defence by land; the guns were dragged from the ships to the bastions and redoubts.
Then, when it appeared that the Allies lingered, the Russian commander altered his
plan. Leaving Korniloff, the Vice-Admiral, and Todleben, an officer of engineers, to
man the existing works and to throw up new ones where the town was undefended,
Menschikoff determined to lead off the bulk of his army into the interior of the Crimea,
in order to keep open his communications with Russia, to await in freedom the arrival
of reinforcements, and, if Sebastopol should not at once fall, to attack the Allies at his
own time and opportunity. (September 24th.)
The English had lost in the battle of the Alma about two thousand men, the French
probably less than half that number. On the morning after the engagement Lord Raglan
proposed that the two armies should march straight against the fortifications lying on
the north of the Great Harbour, and carry these by storm, so winning a position where
their guns would command Sebastopol itself. The French, supported by Burgoyne, the
chief of the English engineers, shrank from the risk of a front attack on works supposed
to be more formidable than they really were, and induced Lord Raglan to consent to a
long circuitous march which would bring the armies right round Sebastopol to its more
open southern side, from which, it was thought, an assault might be successfully made.
This flank-march, which was one of extreme risk, was carried out safely, Menschikoff
himself having left Sebastopol, and having passed along the same road in his retreat
into the interior a little before the appearance of the Allies. Pushing southward, the
English reached the sea at Balaclava, and took possession of the harbour there,
accepting the exposed eastward line between the fortress and the Russia is outside; the
French, now commanded by Canrobert, continued their march westwards round the
back of Sebastopol, and touched the sea at Kasatch Bay. The two armies were thus
masters of the broken plateau which, rising westwards from the plain of Balaclava and
the valley of the Tchernaya, overlooks Sebastopol on its southern side. That the
garrison, which now consisted chiefly of sailors, could at this moment have resisted the
onslaught of the fifty thousand troops who had won the battle of the Alma, the
Russians themselves did not believe; [472] but once more the French staff, with
Burgoyne, urged caution, and it was determined to wait for the siege-guns, which were
still at sea. The decision was a fatal one. While the Allies chose positions for their
heavy artillery and slowly landed and placed their guns, Korniloff and Todleben made
the fortifications on the southern side of Sebastopol an effective barrier before an
enemy. The sacrifice of the Russian fleet had not been in vain. The sailors were
learning all the duties of a garrison: the cannon from the ships proved far more valuable
on land. Three weeks of priceless time were given to leaders who knew how to turn
every moment to account. When, on the 17th of October, the bombardment which was
to precede the assault on Sebastopol began, the French artillery, operating on the
south-west, was overpowered by that of the defenders. The fleets in vain thundered
against the solid sea-front of the fortress. At the end of eight days' cannonade, during
which the besiegers' batteries poured such a storm of shot and shell upon Sebastopol as
no fortress had yet withstood, the defences were still unbroken.
Menschikoff in the meantime had received the reinforcements which he expected, and
was now ready to fall upon the besiegers from the east. His point of attack was the
English port of Balaclava and the fortified road lying somewhat east of this, which
formed the outer line held by the English and their Turkish supports. The plain of
Balaclava is divided by a low ridge into a northern and a southern valley. Along this
ridge runs the causeway, which had been protected by redoubts committed to a weak
How they died there, the remnant not turning till they had hewn their way past the guns
and routed the enemy's cavalry behind them, the English people will never forget.[473]
The day of Balaclava brought to each side something of victory and something of
failure. The Russians remained masters of the road that they had captured, and carried
off seven English guns; the English, where they had met the enemy, proved that they
could defeat overwhelming numbers. Not many days passed before our infantry were
put to the test which the cavalry had so victoriously undergone. The siege-approaches
of the French had been rapidly advanced, and it was determined that on the 5th of
November the long-deferred assault on Sebastopol should be made. On that very
morning, under cover of a thick mist, the English right was assailed by massive
columns of the enemy. Menschikoff's army had now risen to a hundred thousand men;
he had thrown troops into Sebastopol, and had planned the capture of the English
positions by a combined attack from Sebastopol itself, and by troops advancing from
On the 14th of November the Euxine winter began with a storm which swept away the
tents on the exposed plateau, and wrecked twenty-one vessels bearing stores of
ammunition and clothing. From this time rain and snow turned the tract between the
camp and Balaclava into a morass. The loss of the paved road which had been captured
by the Russians three weeks before now told with fatal effect on the British army. The
only communication with the port of Balaclava was by a hillside track, which soon
became impassable by carts. It was necessary to bring up supplies on the backs of
horses; but the horses perished from famine and from excessive labour. The men were
too few, too weak, too destitute of the helpful ways of English sailors, to assist in
providing for themselves. Thus penned up on the bleak promontory, cholera-stricken,
mocked rather than sustained during their benumbing toil with rations of uncooked
meat and green coffee-berries, the British soldiery wasted away. Their effective force
sank at midwinter to eleven thousand men. In the hospitals, which even at Scutari were
more deadly to those who passed within them than the fiercest fire of the enemy, nine
thousand men perished before the end of February. The time indeed came when the
very Spirit of Mercy seemed to enter these abodes of woe, and in the presence of
Florence Nightingale nature at last regained its healing power, pestilence no longer
hung in the atmosphere which the sufferers breathed, and death itself grew mild. But
before this new influence had vanquished routine the grave had closed over whole
regiments of men whom it had no right to claim. The sufferings of other armies have
been on a greater scale, but seldom has any body of troops furnished a heavier tale of
loss and death in proportion to its numbers than the British army during the winter of
the Crimean War. The unsparing exposure in the Press of the mismanagement under
which our soldiers were perishing excited an outburst of indignation which overthrew
Lord Aberdeen's Ministry and placed Palmerston in power. It also gave to Europe at
large an impression that Great Britain no longer knew how to conduct a war, and
unduly raised the reputation of the French military administration, whose
shortcomings, great as they were, no French journalist dared to describe. In spite of
Alma and Inkermann, the military prestige of England was injured, not raised, by the
Crimean campaign; nor was it until the suppression of the Indian Mutiny that the true
capacity of the nation in war was again vindicated before the world.
[Austria.]
"I have two generals who will not fail me," the Czar is reported to have said when he
heard of Menschikoff's last defeat, "Generals January and February." General February
fulfilled his task, but he smote the Czar too. In the first days of March a new monarch
inherited the Russian crown. [474] Alexander II. ascended the throne, announcing that
he would adhere to the policy of Peter the Great, of Catherine, and of Nicholas. But the
proud tone was meant rather for the ear of Russia than of Europe, since Nicholas had
already expressed his willingness to treat for peace on the basis laid down by the
Western Powers in August, 1854. This change was not produced wholly by the battles
of Alma and Inkermann. Prussia, finding itself isolated in Germany, had after some
months of hesitation given a diplomatic sanction to the Four Points approved by
Austria as indispensable conditions of peace. Russia thus stood forsaken, as it seemed,
by its only friend, and Nicholas could no longer hope to escape with the mere
abandonment of those claims which had been the occasion of the war. He consented to
treat with his enemies on their own terms. Austria now approached still more closely to
the Western Powers, and bound itself by treaty, in the event of peace not being
concluded by the end of the year on the stated basis, to deliberate with France and
England upon effectual means for obtaining the object of the Alliance. [475]
Preparations were made for a Conference at Vienna, from which Prussia, still declining
to pledge itself to warlike action in case of the failure of the negotiations, was
excluded. The sittings of the Conference began a few days after the accession of
Alexander II. Russia was represented by its ambassador, Prince Alexander
Gortschakoff, who, as Minister of later years, was to play so conspicuous a part in
undoing the work of the Crimean epoch. On the first two Articles forming the subject
of negotiation, namely the abolition of the Russian Protectorate over Servia and the
Principalities, and the removal of all impediments to the free navigation of the Danube,
agreement was reached. On the third Article, the revision of the Treaty of July, 1841,
relating to the Black Sea and the Dardanelles, the Russian envoy and the
representatives of the Western Powers found themselves completely at variance.
Gortschakoff had admitted that the Treaty of 1841 must be so revised as to put an end
to the preponderance of Russia in the Black Sea; [476] but while the Western
Governments insisted upon the exclusion of Russian war-vessels from these waters,
Gortschakoff would consent only to the abolition of Russia's preponderance by the free
admission of the war-vessels of all nations, or by some similar method of counterpoise.
The negotiations accordingly came to an end, but not before Austria, disputing the
contention of the Allies that the object of the third Article could be attained only by the
specific means proposed by them, had brought forward a third scheme based partly
upon the limitation of the Russian navy in the Euxine, partly upon the admission of
war-ships of other nations. This scheme was rejected by the Western Powers,
whereupon Austria declared that its obligations under the Treaty of December 2nd,
1854, had now been fulfilled, and that it returned in consequence to the position of a
neutral.
The prospects of the besieging armies before Sebastopol were in some respects better
towards the close of January, 1855, than they were when the Conference of Vienna
commenced its sittings six weeks later. Sardinia, under the guidance of Cavour, had
joined the Western Alliance, and was about to send fifteen thousand soldiers to the
Crimea. A new plan of operations, which promised excellent results, had been adopted
at headquarters. Up to the end of 1854 the French had directed their main attack against
the Flagstaff bastion, a little to the west of the head of the Man-of-War Harbour. They
were now, however, convinced by Lord Raglan that the true keystone to the defences
of Sebastopol was the Malakoff, on the eastern side, and they undertook the reduction
of this formidable work, while the British directed their efforts against the
neighbouring Redan. [477] The heaviest fire of the besiegers being thus concentrated
on a narrow line, it seemed as if Sebastopol must soon fall. But at the beginning of
February a sinister change came over the French camp. General Niel arrived from Paris
vested with powers which really placed him in control of the general-in-chief; and
though Canrobert was but partially made acquainted with the Emperor's designs, he
was forced to sacrifice to them much of his own honour and that of the army. Napoleon
had determined to come to the Crimea himself, and at the fitting moment to end by one
grand stroke the war which had dragged so heavily in the hands of others. He believed
that Sebastopol could only be taken by a complete investment; and it was his design to
[Exhaustion of Russia.]
The Allies had lost since their landing in the Crimea not less than a hundred thousand
men. An enterprise undertaken in the belief that it would be accomplished in the course
of a few weeks, and with no greater sacrifice of life than attends every attack upon a
fortified place, had proved arduous and terrible almost beyond example. Yet if the
Crimean campaign was the result of error and blindness on the part of the invaders, it
endangered if peace were not now made; the Chief of the Finances stated that Russia
could not go through another campaign without bankruptcy. [478] At the end of the
discussion the Council declared unanimously in favour of accepting the Austrian
propositions; and although the national feeling was still in favour of resistance, there
appears to have been one Russian statesman alone, Prince Gortschakoff, ambassador at
Vienna, who sought to dissuade the Czar from making peace. His advice was not taken.
The vote of the Council was followed by the despatch of plenipotentiaries to Paris, and
here, on the 25th of February, 1856, the envoys of all the Powers, with the exception of
Prussia, assembled in Conference, in order to frame the definitive Treaty of Peace.
[479]
In the debates which now followed, and which occupied more than a month, Lord
Clarendon, who represented Great Britain, discovered that in each contested point he
had to fight against the Russian and the French envoys combined, so completely was
the Court of the Tuileries now identified with a policy of conciliation and friendliness
towards Russia. [480] Great firmness, great plainness of speech was needed on the part
of the British Government, in order to prevent the recognised objects of the war from
being surrendered by its ally, not from a conviction that they were visionary or
unattainable, but from unsteadiness of purpose and from the desire to convert a
defeated enemy into a friend. The end, however, was at length reached, and on the 30th
of March the Treaty of Paris was signed. The Black Sea was neutralised; its waters and
ports, thrown open to the mercantile marine of every nation, were formally and in
perpetuity interdicted to the war-ships both of the Powers possessing its coasts and of
all other Powers. The Czar and the Sultan undertook not to establish or maintain upon
its coasts any military or maritime arsenal. Russia ceded a portion of Bessarabia,
accepting a frontier which excluded it from the Danube. The free navigation of this
river, henceforth to be effectively maintained by an international Commission, was
declared part of the public law of Europe. The Powers declared the Sublime Porte
admitted to participate in the advantages of the public law and concert of Europe, each
engaging to respect the independence and integrity of the Ottoman Empire, and all
guaranteeing in common the strict observance of this engagement, and promising to
consider any act tending to its violation as a question of general interest. The Sultan
"having, in his constant solicitude for the welfare of his subjects, issued a firman
recording his generous intentions towards the Christian population of his empire, [481]
and having communicated it to the Powers," the Powers "recognised the high value of
this communication," declaring at the same time "that it could not, in any case, give to
them the right to interfere, either collectively or separately, in the relations of the
Sultan to his subjects, or in the internal administration of his empire." The Danubian
Principalities, augmented by the strip of Bessarabia taken from Russia, were to
continue to enjoy, under the suzerainty of the Porte and under the guarantee of the
Powers, all the privileges and immunities of which they were in possession, no
exclusive protection being exercised by any of the guaranteeing Powers. [482]
Passing beyond the immediate subjects of negotiation, the Conference availed itself of
its international character to gain the consent of Great Britain to a change in the laws of
Among the devotees of the Turk the English Ministers were the most impassioned,
having indeed in the possession of India some excuse for their fervour on behalf of any
imaginable obstacle that would keep the Russians out of Constantinople. The Emperor
of the French had during the Conferences at Paris revived his project of incorporating
the Danubian Principalities with Austria in return for the cession of Lombardy, but the
Viennese Government had declined to enter into any such arrangement. Napoleon
consequently entered upon a new Eastern policy. Appreciating the growing force of
nationality in European affairs, and imagining that in the championship of the principle
of nationality against the Treaties of 1815 he would sooner or later find means for the
aggrandisement of himself and France, he proposed that the Provinces of Moldavia and
Wallachia, while remaining in dependence upon the Sultan, should be united into a
single State under a prince chosen by themselves. The English Ministry would not hear
of this union. In their view the creation of a Roumanian Principality under a chief not
appointed by the Porte was simply the abstraction from the Sultan of six million
persons who at present acknowledged his suzerainty, and whose tribute to
Constantinople ought, according to Lord Clarendon, to be increased. [483] Austria,
fearing the effect of a Roumanian national movement upon its own Roumanian
subjects in Transylvania, joined in resistance to Napoleon's scheme, and the political
organisation of the Principalities was in consequence reserved by the Conference of
Paris for future settlement. Elections were held in the spring of 1857 under a decree
from the Porte, with the result that Moldavia, as it seemed, pronounced against union
with the sister province. But the complaint at once arose that the Porte had falsified the
popular vote. France and Russia had now established relations of such amity that their
ambassadors jointly threatened to quit Constantinople if the elections were not
annulled. A visit paid by the French Emperor to Queen Victoria, with the object of
smoothing over the difficulties which had begun to threaten the Western alliance,
resulted rather in increased misunderstandings between the two Governments as to the
future of the Principalities than in any real agreement. The elections were annulled.
New representative bodies met at Bucharest and Jassy, and pronounced almost
unanimously for union (October, 1857). In the spring of 1858 the Conference of Paris
reassembled in order to frame a final settlement of the affairs of the Principalities. It
determined that in each Province there should be a Hospodar elected for life, a separate
judicature, and a separate legislative Assembly, while a central Commission, formed by
representatives of both Provinces, should lay before the Assemblies projects of law on
matters of joint interest. In accordance with these provisions, Assemblies were elected
in each Principality at the beginning of 1859. Their first duty was to choose the two
Hospodars, but in both Provinces a unanimous vote fell upon the same person, Prince
Alexander Cuza. The efforts of England and Austria to prevent union were thus baffled
by the Roumanian people itself, and after three years the elaborate arrangements made
by the Conference were similarly swept away, and a single Ministry and Assembly
took the place of the dual Government. It now remained only to substitute a hereditary
Prince for a Hospodar elected for life; and in 1866, on the expulsion of Alexander Cuza
by his subjects, Prince Charles of Hohenzollern-Sigmaringen, a distant kinsman of the
reigning Prussian sovereign, was recognised by all Europe as Hereditary Prince of
Roumania. The suzerainty of the Porte, now reduced to the bare right to receive a fixed
tribute, was fated to last but for a few years longer.
Europe had not to wait for the establishment of Roumanian independence in order to
judge of the foresight and the statesmanship of the authors of the Treaty of Paris.
Scarcely a year passed without the occurrence of some event that cast ridicule upon the
fiction of a self-regenerated Turkey, and upon the profession of the Powers that the
epoch of external interference in its affairs was at an end. The active misgovernment of
the Turkish authorities themselves, their powerlessness or want of will to prevent
flagrant outrage and wrong among those whom they professed to rule, continued after
the Treaty of Paris to be exactly what they had been before it. In 1860 massacres and
civil war in Mount Lebanon led to the occupation of Syria by French troops. In 1861
Bosnia and Herzegovina took up arms. In 1863 Servia expelled its Turkish garrisons.
Crete, rising in the following year, fought long for its independence, and seemed for a
moment likely to be united with Greece under the auspices of the Powers, but it was
finally abandoned to its Ottoman masters. At the end of fourteen years from the
signature of the Peace of Paris, the downfall of the French Empire enabled Russia to
declare that it would no longer recognise the provisions of the Treaty which excluded
its war-ships and its arsenals from the Black Sea. It was for this, and for this almost
alone, that England had gone through the Crimean War. But for the determination of
Lord Palmerston to exclude Russia from the Black Sea, peace might have been made
while the Allied armies were still at Varna. This exclusion was alleged to be necessary
in the interests of Europe at large; that it was really enforced not in the interest of
Europe but in the interest of England was made sufficiently clear by the action of
Austria and Prussia, whose statesmen, in spite of the discourses so freely addressed to
them from London, were at least as much alive to the interests of their respective
countries as Lord Palmerston could be on their behalf. Nor had France in 1854 any
interest in crippling the power of Russia, or in Eastern affairs generally, which could be
remotely compared with those of the possessors of India. The personal needs of
Napoleon III. made him, while he seemed to lead, the instrument of the British
Government for enforcing British aims, and so gave to Palmerston the momentary
shaping of a new and superficial concert of the Powers. Masters of Sebastopol, the
Allies had experienced little difficulty in investing their own conclusions with the
seeming authority of Europe at large; but to bring the representatives of Austria and
Prussia to a Council-table, to hand them the pen to sign a Treaty dictated by France and
England, was not to bind them to a policy which was not their own, or to make those
things interests of Austria and Prussia which were not their interests before. Thus when
in 1870 the French Empire fell, England stood alone as the Power concerned in
maintaining the exclusion of Russia from the Euxine, and this exclusion it could
CHAPTER XXII.
In the gloomy years that followed 1849 the kingdom of Sardinia had stood out in bright
relief as a State which, though crushed on the battle-field, had remained true to the
cause of liberty while all around it the forces of reaction gained triumph after triumph.
Its King had not the intellectual gifts of the maker of a great State, but he was one with
whom those possessed of such gifts could work, and on whom they could depend. With
certain grave private faults Victor Emmanuel had the public virtues of intense
On the conclusion of peace with Austria after the campaign of Novara, the Government
and the Parliament of Turin addressed themselves to the work of emancipating the
State from the system of ecclesiastical privilege and clerical ascendency which had
continued in full vigour down to the last year of Charles Albert's reign. Since 1814 the
Church had maintained, or had recovered, both in Piedmont and in the island of
Sardinia, rights which had been long wrested from it in other European societies, and
which were out of harmony with the Constitution now taking root under Victor
Emmanuel. The clergy had still their own tribunals, and even in the case of criminal
offences were not subject to the jurisdiction of the State. The Bishops possessed
excessive powers and too large a share of the Church revenues; the parochial clergy
lived in want; monasteries and convents abounded. It was not in any spirit of hostility
towards the Church that Massimo d'Azeglio, whom the King called to office after
Novara, commenced the work of reform by measures subjecting the clergy to the
law-courts of the State, abolishing the right of sanctuary in monasteries, and limiting
the power of corporations to acquire landed property. If the Papacy would have met
Victor Emmanuel in a fair spirit his Government would gladly have avoided a
dangerous and exasperating struggle; but all the forces and the passions of
Ultramontanism were brought to bear against the proposed reforms. The result was that
the Minister, abandoned by a section of the Conservative party on whom he had relied,
sought the alliance of men ready for a larger and bolder policy, and called to office the
[Cavour.]
Cavour, though few men have gained greater fame as diplomatists, had not been trained
in official life. The younger son of a noble family, he had entered the army in 1826,
and served in the Engineers; but his sympathies with the liberal movement of 1830
brought him into extreme disfavour with his chiefs. He was described by Charles
Albert, then Prince of Carignano, as the most dangerous man in the kingdom, and was
transferred at the instance of his own father to the solitary Alpine fortress of Bard. Too
vigorous a nature to submit to inaction, too buoyant and too sagacious to resort to
conspiracy, he quitted the army, and soon afterwards undertook the management of one
of the family estates, devoting himself to scientific agriculture on a large scale. He was
a keen and successful man of business, but throughout the next twelve years, which he
passed in fruitful private industry, his mind dwelt ardently on public affairs. He was
filled with a deep discontent at the state of society which he saw around him in
Piedmont, and at the condition of Italy at large under foreign and clerical rule.
Repeated visits to France and England made him familiar with the institutions of freer
lands, and gave definiteness to his political and social aims. [484] In 1847, when
changes were following fast, he founded with some other Liberal nobles the journal
Risorgimento, devoted to the cause of national revival; and he was one of the first who
called upon King Charles Albert to grant a Constitution. During the stormy days of
1848 he was at once the vigorous advocate of war with Austria and the adversary of
Republicans and Extremists who for their own theories seemed willing to plunge Italy
into anarchy. Though unpopular with the mob, he was elected to the Chamber by Turin,
and continued to represent the capital after the peace. Up to this time there had been
little opportunity for the proof of his extraordinary powers, but the inborn sagacity of
Victor Emmanuel had already discerned in him a man who could not remain in a
subordinate position. "You will see him turn you all out of your places," the King
remarked to his Ministers, as he gave his assent to Cavour's first appointment to a seat
in the Cabinet.
[Plans of Cavour.]
The Ministry of Azeglio had served Piedmont with honour from 1849 to 1852, but its
leader scarcely possessed the daring and fertility of mind which the time required.
Cavour threw into the work of government a passion and intelligence which soon
produced results visible to all Europe. His devotion to Italy was as deep, as
all-absorbing, as that of Mazzini himself, though the methods and schemes of the two
men were in such complete antagonism. Cavour's fixed purpose was to drive Austria
out of Italy by defeat in the battle-field, and to establish, as the first step towards
national union, a powerful kingdom of Northern Italy under Victor Emmanuel. In order
that the military and naval forces of Piedmont might be raised to the highest possible
strength and efficiency, he saw that the resources of the country must be largely
independence as if he had fallen on the slopes of Custozza or under the walls of Rome.
At the Conference of Paris in 1856 the Sardinian Premier took his place in right of
alliance by the side of the representatives of the great Powers; and when the main
business of the Conference was concluded, Count Buol, the Austrian Minister, was
forced to listen to a vigorous denunciation by Cavour of the misgovernment that
reigned in Central and Southern Italy, of the Austrian occupation which rendered this
possible. Though the French were still in Rome, their presence might by courtesy be
described as a measure of precaution rendered necessary by the intrusion of the
Austrians farther north; and both the French and English plenipotentiaries at the
Conference supported Cavour in his invective. Cavour returned to Italy without any
territorial reward for the services that Piedmont had rendered to the Allies; but his
object was attained. He had exhibited Austria isolated and discredited before Europe;
he had given to his country a voice that it had never before had in the Councils of the
Powers; he had produced a deep conviction throughout Italy that Piedmont not only
could and would act with vigour against the national enemy, but that in its action it
would have the help of allies. From this time the Republican and Mazzinian societies
lost ground before the growing confidence in the House of Savoy, in its Minister and
its army. [485] The strongest evidence of the effect of Cavour's Crimean policy and of
his presence at the Conference of Paris was seen in the action of the Austrian
Government itself. From 1849 to 1856 its rule in Northern Italy had been one not so
much of severity as of brutal violence. Now all was changed. The Emperor came to
Milan to proclaim a general amnesty and to win the affection of his subjects. The
sequestrated estates were restored to their owners. Radetzky, in his ninety-second year,
was at length allowed to pass into retirement; the government of the sword was
declared at an end; Maximilian, the gentlest and most winning of the Hapsburgs, was
sent with his young bride to charm away the sad memories of the evil time. But it was
too late. The recognition shown by the Lombards of the Emperor's own personal
friendliness indicated no reconciliation with Austria; and while Francis Joseph was still
in Milan, King Victor Emmanuel, in the presence of a Lombard deputation, laid the
first stone of the monument erected by subscriptions from all Italy in memory of those
who had fallen in the campaigns of 1848 and 1849, the statue of a foot-soldier waving
his sword towards the Austrian frontier. The Sardinian Press redoubled its attacks on
Austria and its Italian vassals. The Government of Vienna sought satisfaction; Cavour
sharply refused it; and diplomatic relations between the two Courts, which had been
resumed since the Conference of Paris, were again broken off.
Of the two Western Powers, Cavour would have preferred an alliance with Great
Britain, which had no objects of its own to seek in Italy; but when he found that the
Government of London would not assist him by arms against Austria, he drew closer to
the Emperor Napoleon, and supported him throughout his controversy with England
and Austria on the settlement of the Danubian Principalities. Napoleon, there is no
doubt, felt a real interest in Italy. His own early political theories formed on a study of
From this moment Cavour laboured night and day for war. His position was an
exceedingly difficult one. Not only had he to reckon with the irresolution of Napoleon,
and his avowed unwillingness to take up arms unless with the appearance of some good
cause; but even supposing the goal of war reached, and Austria defeated, how little was
there in common between Cavour's aims for Italy and the traditional policy of France!
The first Napoleon had given Venice to Austria at Campo Formio; even if the new
Napoleon should fulfil his promise and liberate all Northern Italy, his policy in regard
to the centre and south of the Peninsula would probably be antagonistic to any effective
union or to any further extension of the influence of the House of Savoy. Cavour had
therefore to set in readiness for action national forces of such strength that Napoleon,
even if he desired to draw back, should find it difficult to do so, and that the shaping of
the future of the Italian people should be governed not by the schemes which the
[Attempts at mediation.]
Napoleon seems to have considered that he would be ready to begin war in the spring
of 1859. At the reception at the Tuileries on the 1st of January he addressed the
Austrian ambassador in words that pointed to an approaching conflict; a few weeks
later a marriage-contract was signed between Prince Napoleon and Clotilde, daughter
of Victor Emmanuel, and part of the agreement made at Plombières was embodied in a
formal Treaty. Napoleon undertook to support Sardinia in a war that might arise from
any aggressive act on the part of Austria, and, if victorious, to add both Lombardy and
Venetia to Victor Emmanuel's dominions. France was in return to receive Savoy, the
disposal of Nice being reserved till the restoration of peace. [489] Even before the
Treaty was signed Victor Emmanuel had thrown down the challenge to Austria,
declaring at the opening of the Parliament of Turin that he could not be insensible to
the cry of suffering that rose from Italy. In all but technical form the imminence of war
had been announced, when, under the influence of diplomatists and Ministers about
him, and of a financial panic that followed his address to the Austrian ambassador, the
[Campaign of 1859.]
The victory of the Allies was at once felt throughout Central Italy. The Grand Duke of
Tuscany had already fled from his dominions, and the Dictatorship for the period of the
war had been offered by a Provisional Government to Victor Emmanuel, who, while
refusing this, had allowed his envoy, Boncampagni, to assume temporary powers at
Florence as his representative. The Duke of Modena and the Duchess of Parma now
quitted their territories. In the Romagna the disappearance of the Austrians resulted in
the immediate overthrow of Papal authority. Everywhere the demand was for union
with Piedmont. The calamities of the last ten years had taught their lesson to the Italian
people. There was now nothing of the disorder, the extravagance, the childishness of
1848. The populations who had then been so divided, so suspicious, so easy a prey to
demagogues, were now watchful, self-controlled, and anxious for the guidance of the
only real national Government. As at Florence, so in the Duchies and in the Romagna,
it was desired that Victor Emmanuel should assume the Dictatorship. The King adhered
to the policy which he had adopted towards Tuscany, avoiding any engagement that
might compromise him with Europe or his ally, but appointing Commissioners to enrol
In his proclamations at the opening of the war Napoleon had declared that Italy must be
freed up to the shore of the Adriatic. His address to the Italian people on entering Milan
with Victor Emmanuel after the victory of Magenta breathed the same spirit. As yet,
however, Lombardy alone had been won. The advance of the allied armies was
accordingly resumed after an interval of some days, and on the 23rd of June they
approached the positions held by the Austrians a little to the west of the Mincio.
Francis Joseph had come from Vienna to take command of the army. His presence
assisted the enemy, inasmuch as he had no plan of his own, and wavered from day to
day between the antagonistic plans of the generals at headquarters. Some wished to
make the Mincio the line of defence, others to hold the Chiese some miles farther west.
The consequence was that the army marched backwards and forwards across the space
between the two rivers according as one or another general gained for the moment the
Emperor's confidence. It was while the Austrians were thus engaged that the allied
armies came into contact with them about Solferino. On neither side was it known that
the whole force of the enemy was close at hand. The battle of Solferino, one of the
bloodiest of recent times, was fought almost by accident. About a hundred and fifty
thousand men were present under Napoleon and Victor Emmanuel; the Austrians had a
slight superiority in force. On the north, where Benedek with the Austrian right was
attacked by the Piedmontese at San Martino, it seemed as if the task imposed on the
Italian troops was beyond their power. Victor Emmanuel, fighting with the same
courage as at Novara, saw the positions in front of his troops alternately won and lost.
But the success of the French at Solferino in the centre decided the day, and the
Austrians withdrew at last from their whole line with a loss in killed and wounded of
fourteen thousand men. On the part of the Allies the slaughter was scarcely less.
[Peace of Villafranca.]
Napoleon stood a conqueror, but a conqueror at terrible cost; and in front of him he saw
the fortresses of the Quadrilateral, while new divisions were hastening from the north
and east to the support of the still unbroken Austrian army. He might well doubt
whether, even against his present antagonist alone, further success was possible. The
fearful spectacle of Solferino, heightened by the effects of overpowering summer heat,
probably affected a mind humane and sensitive and untried in the experience of war.
The condition of the French army, there is reason to believe, was far different from that
represented in official reports, and likely to make the continuance of the campaign
perilous in the extreme. But beyond all this, the Emperor knew that if he advanced
farther Prussia and all Germany might at any moment take up arms against him. There
[Resignation of Cavour.]
[Central Italy.]
Though Lombardy was gained, the impression made upon the Italians by the peace of
Villafranca was one of the utmost dismay. Napoleon had so confidently and so recently
promised the liberation of all Northern Italy that public opinion ascribed to treachery or
weakness what was in truth an act of political necessity. On the first rumour of the
negotiations Cavour had hurried from Turin, but the agreement was signed before his
arrival. The anger and the grief of Cavour are described by those who then saw him as
terrible to witness. [494] Napoleon had not the courage to face him; Victor Emmanuel
bore for two hours the reproaches of his Minister, who had now completely lost his
self-control. Cavour returned to Turin, and shortly afterwards withdrew from office, his
last act being the despatch of ten thousand muskets to Farini at Modena. In accordance
with the terms of peace, instructions, which were probably not meant to be obeyed,
were sent by Cavour's successor, Rattazzi, to the Piedmontese Commissioners in
Central Italy, bidding them to return to Turin and to disband any forces that they had
Cavour, in the plans which he had made before 1859, had not looked for a direct and
immediate result beyond the creation of an Italian Kingdom including the whole of the
territory north of the Po. The other steps in the consolidation of Italy would, he
believed, follow in their order. They might be close at hand, or they might be delayed
for a while; but in the expulsion of Austria, in the interposition of a purely Italian State
numbering above ten millions of inhabitants, mistress of the fortresses and of a
powerful fleet, between Austria and those who had been its vassals, the essential
conditions of Italian national independence would have been won. For the rest, Italy
might be content to wait upon time and opportunity. But the Peace of Villafranca,
leaving Venetia in the enemy's hands, completely changed this prospect. The fiction of
an Italian Federation in which the Hapsburg Emperor, as lord of Venice, should forget
his Austrian interests and play the part of Italian patriot, was too gross to deceive any
one. Italy, on these terms, would either continue to be governed from Vienna, or be
made a pawn in the hands of its French protector. What therefore Cavour had hitherto
been willing to leave to future years now became the need of the present. "Before
Villafranca," in his own words, "the union of Italy was a possibility; since Villafranca it
is a necessity." Victor Emmanuel understood this too, and saw the need for action more
clearly than Rattazzi and the Ministers who, on Cavour's withdrawal in July, stepped
for a few months into his place. The situation was one that called indeed for no mean
exercise of statesmanship. If Italy was not to be left dependent upon the foreigner and
the reputation of the House of Savoy ruined, it was necessary not only that the Duchies
of Modena and Parma, but that Central Italy, including Tuscany and at least the
Romagna, should be united with the Kingdom of Piedmont; yet the accomplishment of
Soon after the Agreement of Villafranca, Napoleon had proposed to the British
Government that a Congress of all the Powers should assemble at Paris in order to
decide upon the many Italian questions which still remained unsettled. In taking upon
himself the emancipation of Northern Italy Napoleon had, as it proved, attempted a task
far beyond his own powers. The work had been abruptly broken off; the promised
services had not been rendered, the stipulated reward had not been won. On the other
hand, forces had been set in motion which he who raised them could not allay;
populations stood in arms against the Governments which the Agreement of
Villafranca purported to restore; the Pope's authority in the northern part of his
dominions was at an end; the Italian League over which France and Austria were to
join hands of benediction remained the laughing-stock of Europe. Napoleon's victories
had added Lombardy to Piedmont; for the rest, except from the Italian point of view,
they had only thrown affairs into confusion. Hesitating at the first between his
The decision of the Emperor was foreshadowed by the publication on the 24th of
December of a pamphlet entitled "The Pope and the Congress." The doctrine advanced
in this essay was that, although a temporal authority was necessary to the Pope's
spiritual independence, the peace and unity which should surround the Vicar of Christ
would be best attained when his temporal sovereignty was reduced within the
narrowest possible limits. Rome and the territory immediately around it, if guaranteed
to the Pope by the Great Powers, would be sufficient for the temporal needs of the Holy
See. The revenue lost by the separation of the remainder of the Papal territories might
be replaced by a yearly tribute of reverence paid by the Catholic Powers to the Head of
the Church. That the pamphlet advocating this policy was written at the dictation of
Napoleon was not made a secret. Its appearance occasioned an indignant protest at
Rome. The Pope announced that he would take no part in the proposed Congress unless
the doctrines advanced in the pamphlet were disavowed by the French Government.
Napoleon in reply submitted to the Pope that he would do well to purchase the
guarantee of the Powers for the remainder of his territories by giving up all claim to the
Romagna, which he had already lost. Pius retorted that he could not cede what Heaven
had granted, not to himself, but to the Church; and that if the Powers would but clear
the Romagna of Piedmontese intruders he would soon reconquer the rebellious
province without the assistance either of France or of Austria. The attitude assumed by
the Papal Court gave Napoleon a good pretext for abandoning the plan of a European
Congress, from which he could hardly expect to obtain a grant of Nice and Savoy. It
was announced at Paris that the Congress would be postponed; and on the 5th of
January, 1860, the change in Napoleon's policy was publicly marked by the dismissal
of his Foreign Minister, Walewski, and the appointment in his place of Thouvenel, a
friend to Italian union. Ten days later Rattazzi gave up office at Turin, and Cavour
returned to power.
Rattazzi, during the six months that he had conducted affairs, had steered safely past
some dangerous rocks; but he held the helm with an unsteady and untrusted hand, and
he appears to have displayed an unworthy jealousy towards Cavour, who, while out of
office, had not ceased to render what services he could to his country. Cavour resumed
his post, with the resolve to defer no longer the annexation of Central Italy, but with the
heavy consciousness that Napoleon would demand in return for his consent to this
union the cession of Nice and Savoy. No Treaty entitled France to claim this reward,
for the Austrians still held Venetia; but Napoleon's troops lay at Milan, and by a march
southwards they could easily throw Italian affairs again into confusion, and undo all
that the last six months had effected. Cavour would perhaps have lent himself to any
European combination which, while directed against the extension, of France, would
have secured the existence of the Italian Kingdom; but no such alternative to the
French alliance proved possible; and the subsequent negotiations between Paris and
Turin were intended only to vest with a certain diplomatic propriety the now inevitable
transfer of territory from the weaker to the stronger State. A series of propositions
made from London with the view of withdrawing from Italy both French and Austrian
influence led the Austrian Court to acknowledge that its army would not be employed
for the restoration of the sovereigns of Tuscany and Modena. Construing this statement
as an admission that the stipulations of Villafranca and Zürich as to the return of the
fugitive princes had become impracticable, Napoleon now suggested that Victor
Emmanuel should annex Parma and Modena, and assume secular power in the
Romagna as Vicar of the Pope, leaving Tuscany to form a separate Government. The
establishment of so powerful a kingdom on the confines of France was, he added, not
in accordance with the traditions of French foreign policy, and in self-defence France
must rectify its military frontier by the acquisition of Nice and Savoy (Feb. 24th).
Cavour well understood that the mention of Tuscan independence, and the qualified
recognition of the Pope's rights in the Romagna, were no more than suggestions of the
means of pressure by which France might enforce the cessions it required. He answered
that, although Victor Emmanuel could not alienate any part of his dominions, his
Government recognised the same popular rights in Savoy and Nice as in Central Italy;
and accordingly that if the population of these districts declared in a legal form their
desire to be incorporated with France, the King would not resist their will. Having thus
consented to the necessary sacrifice, and ignoring Napoleon's reservations with regard
to Tuscany and the Pope, Cavour gave orders that a popular vote should at once be
taken in Tuscany, as well as in Parma, Modena, and the Romagna, on the question of
union with Piedmont. The voting took place early in March, and gave an overwhelming
That Victor Emmanuel had at one time been disposed to resist Cavour's surrender of
the home of his race is well known. Above a year, however, had passed since the
project had been accepted as the basis of the French alliance; and if, during the interval
of suspense after Villafranca, the King had cherished a hope that the sacrifice might be
avoided without prejudice either to the cause of Italy or to his own relations with
Napoleon, Cavour had entertained no such illusions. He knew that the cession was an
indispensable link in the chain of his own policy, that policy which had made it
possible to defeat Austria, and which, he believed, would lead to the further
consolidation of Italy. Looking to Rome, to Palermo, where the smouldering fire might
at any moment blaze out, he could not yet dispense with the friendship of Napoleon, he
could not provoke the one man powerful enough to shape the action of France in
defiance of Clerical and of Legitimist aims. Rattazzi might claim credit for having
brought Piedmont past the Treaty of Zürich without loss of territory; Cavour, in a far
finer spirit, took upon himself the responsibility for the sacrifice made to France, and
bade the Parliament of Italy pass judgment upon his act. The cession of the
border-provinces overshadowed what would otherwise have been the brightest scene in
Italian history for many generations, the meeting of the first North-Italian Parliament at
Turin. Garibaldi, coming as deputy from his birthplace, Nice, uttered words of scorn
and injustice against the man who had made him an alien in Italy, and quitted the
Chamber. Bitterly as Cavour felt, both now and down to the end of his life, the
reproaches that were levelled against him, he allowed no trace of wounded feeling, of
impatience, of the sense of wrong, to escape him in the masterly speech in which he
justified his policy and won for it the ratification of the Parliament. It was not until a
year later, when the hand of death was almost upon him, that fierce words addressed to
him face to face by Garibaldi wrung from him the impressive answer, "The act that has
made this gulf between us was the most painful duty of my life. By what I have felt
myself I know what Garibaldi must have felt. If he refuses me his forgiveness I cannot
reproach him for it." [497]
The annexation of Nice and Savoy by Napoleon was seen with extreme displeasure in
Europe generally, and most of all in England. It directly affected the history of Britain
by the stimulus which it gave to the development of the Volunteer Forces. Owing their
origin to certain demonstrations of hostility towards England made by the French army
after Orsini's conspiracy and the acquittal of one of his confederates in London, the
Volunteer Forces rose in the three months that followed the annexation of Nice and
Savoy from seventy to a hundred and eighty thousand men. If viewed as an indication
[Naples.]
Nice and Savoy had hardly been handed over to Napoleon when Garibaldi set out from
Genoa to effect the liberation of Sicily and Naples. King Ferdinand II., known to his
subjects and to Western Europe as King Bomba, had died a few days before the battle
of Magenta, leaving the throne to his son Francis II. In consequence of the friendship
shown by Ferdinand to Russia during the Crimean War, and of his refusal to amend his
tyrannical system of government, the Western Powers had in 1856 withdrawn their
representatives from Naples. On the accession of Francis II. diplomatic intercourse was
renewed, and Cavour, who had been at bitter enmity with Ferdinand, sought to
establish relations of friendship with his son. In the war against Austria an alliance with
Naples would have been of value to Sardinia as a counterpoise to Napoleon's influence,
and this alliance Cavour attempted to obtain. He was, however, unsuccessful; and after
the Peace of Villafranca the Neapolitan Court threw itself with ardour into schemes for
the restoration of the fallen Governments and the overthrow of Piedmontese authority
in the Romagna by means of a coalition with Austria and Spain and a
counterrevolutionary movement in Italy itself. A rising on behalf of the fugitive Grand
Duke of Tuscany was to give the signal for the march of the Neapolitan army
northwards. This rising, however, was expected in vain, and the great Catholic design
[Sicily.]
Since the campaign of 1859 insurrectionary committees had been active in the principal
Sicilian towns. The old desire of the Sicilian Liberals for the independence of the island
had given place, under the influence of the events of the past year, to the desire for
Italian union. On the abandonment of Garibaldi's plan for the march on Rome in
November, 1859, the liberation of Sicily had been suggested to him as a more feasible
enterprise, and the general himself wavered in the spring of 1860 between the
resumption of his Roman project and an attack upon the Bourbons of Naples from the
south. The rumour spread through Sicily that Garibaldi would soon appear there at the
head of his followers. On the 3rd of April an attempt at insurrection was made at
Palermo. It was repressed without difficulty; and although disturbances broke out in
other parts of the island, the reports which reached Garibaldi at Genoa as to the spirit
and prospects of the Sicilians were so disheartening that for a while he seemed
disposed to abandon the project of invasion as hopeless for the present. It was only
when some of the Sicilian exiles declared that they would risk the enterprise without
him that he resolved upon immediate action. On the night of the 5th of May two
steamships lying in the harbour of Genoa were seized, and on these Garibaldi with his
Thousand put to sea. Cavour, though he would have preferred that Sicily should remain
unmolested until some progress had been made in the consolidation of the North Italian
Kingdom, did not venture to restrain Garibaldi's movements, with which he was well
acquainted. He required, however, that the expedition should not touch at the island of
Sardinia, and gave ostensible orders to his admiral, Persano, to seize the ships of
Garibaldi if they should put into any Sardinian port. Garibaldi, who had sheltered the
Sardinian Government from responsibility at the outset by the fiction of a sudden
capture of the two merchant-ships, continued to spare Victor Emmanuel unnecessary
difficulties by avoiding the fleet which was supposed to be on the watch for him off
Cagliari in Sardinia, and only interrupted his voyage by a landing at a desolate spot on
the Tuscan coast in order to take up artillery and ammunition which were waiting for
him there. On the 11th of May, having heard from some English merchantmen that
there were no Neapolitan vessels of war at Marsala, he made for this harbour. The first
of his two ships entered it in safety and disembarked her crew; the second, running on a
rock, lay for some time within range of the guns of a Neapolitan war-steamer which
was bearing up towards the port. But for some unknown reason the Neapolitan
commander delayed opening fire, and the landing of Garibaldi's followers was during
this interval completed without loss. [498]
On the following day the little army, attired in the red shirts which are worn by
cattle-ranchers in South America, marched eastwards from Marsala. Bands of villagers
joined them as they moved through the country, and many unexpected adherents were
gained among the priests. On the third day's march Neapolitan troops were seen in
position at Calatafimi. They were attacked by Garibaldi, and, though far superior in
number, were put to the rout. The moral effects of this first victory were very great.
The Neapolitan commander retired into Palermo, leaving Garibaldi master of the
western portion of the island. Insurrection spread towards the interior; the revolutionary
party at Palermo itself regained its courage and prepared to co-operate with Garibaldi
on his approach. On nearing the city Garibaldi determined that he could not risk a
direct assault upon the forces which occupied it. He resolved, if possible, to lure part of
the defenders into the mountains, and during their absence to throw himself into the
city and to trust to the energy of its inhabitants to maintain himself there. This strategy
succeeded. While the officer in command of some of the Neapolitan battalions,
tempted by an easy victory over the ill-disciplined Sicilian bands opposed to him,
pursued his beaten enemy into the mountains, Garibaldi with the best of his troops
fought his way into Palermo on the night of May 26th. Fighting continued in the streets
during the next two days, and the cannon of the forts and of the Neapolitan vessels in
harbour ineffectually bombarded the city. On the 30th, at the moment when the absent
battalions were coming again into sight, an armistice was signed on board the British
man-of-war Hannibal. The Neapolitan commander gave up to Garibaldi the bank and
public buildings, and withdrew into the forts outside the town. But the Government at
Naples was now becoming thoroughly alarmed; and considering Palermo as lost, it
directed the troops to be shipped to Messina and to Naples itself. Garibaldi was thus
left in undisputed possession of the Sicilian capital. He remained there for nearly two
months, assuming the government of Sicily as Dictator in the name of Victor
Emmanuel, appointing Ministers, and levying taxes. Heavy reinforcements reached
him from Italy. The Neapolitans, driven from the interior as well as from the towns
occupied by the invader, now held only the north-eastern extremity of the island. On
the 20th of July Garibaldi, operating both by land and sea, attacked and defeated them
at Milazzo on the northern coast. The result of this victory was that Messina itself, with
the exception of the citadel, was evacuated by the Neapolitans without resistance.
Garibaldi, whose troops now numbered eighteen thousand, was master of the island
from sea to sea, and could with confidence look forward to the overthrow of Bourbon
authority on the Italian mainland.
Cavour, during Garibaldi's preparation for his descent upon Sicily and until the capture
of Palermo, had affected to disavow and condemn the enterprise as one undertaken by
individuals in spite of the Government, and at their own risk. The Piedmontese
ambassador was still at Naples as the representative of a friendly Court; and in reply to
the reproaches of Germany and Russia, Cavour alleged that the title of Dictator of
Sicily in the name of Victor Emmanuel had been assumed by Garibaldi without the
knowledge or consent of his sovereign. But whatever might be said to Foreign Powers,
Cavour, from the time of the capture of Palermo, recognised that the hour had come for
further steps towards Italian union; and, without committing himself to any definite line
of action, he began already to contemplate the overthrow of the Bourbon dynasty at
Naples. It was in vain that King Francis now released his political prisoners, declared
It was the hope of Cavour that before Garibaldi could reach Naples a popular
movement in the city itself would force the King to take flight, so that Garibaldi on his
arrival would find the machinery of government, as well as the command of the fleet
and the army, already in the hands of Victor Emmanuel's representatives. If war with
Austria was really impending, incalculable mischief might be caused by the existence
of a semi-independent Government at Naples, reckless, in its enthusiasm for the march
on Rome, of the effect which its acts might produce on the French alliance. In any case
the control of Italian affairs could but half belong to the King and his Minister if
Garibaldi, in the full glory of his unparalleled exploits, should add the Dictatorship of
Naples to the Dictatorship of Sicily. Accordingly Cavour plied every art to accelerate
the inevitable revolution. Persano and the Sardinian ambassador, Villamarina, had their
confederates in the Bourbon Ministry and in the Royal Family itself. But their efforts to
drive King Francis from Naples, and to establish the authority of Victor Emmanuel
before Garibaldi's arrival, were baffled partly by the tenacity of the King and Queen,
partly by the opposition of the committees of the Party of Action, who were determined
that power should fall into no hands but those of Garibaldi himself. It was not till
Garibaldi had reached Salerno, and the Bourbon generals had one after another
declined to undertake the responsibility of command in a battle against him, that
Francis resolved on flight. It was now feared that he might induce the fleet to sail with
him, and even that he might hand it over to the Austrians. The crews, it was believed,
were willing to follow the King; the officers, though inclined to the Italian cause,
would be powerless to prevent them. There was not an hour to lose. On the night of
September 5th, after the King's intention to quit the capital had become known, Persano
and Villamarina disguised themselves, and in company with their partisans mingled
with the crews of the fleet, whom they induced by bribes and persuasion to empty the
boilers and to cripple the engines of their ships. When, on the 6th, King Francis, having
announced his intention to spare the capital bloodshed, went on board a mail steamer
and quitted the harbour, accompanied by the ambassadors of Austria, Prussia, and
Spain, only one vessel of the fleet of followed him. An urgent summons was sent to
[The Piedmontese army enters Umbria and the Marches. Sept. 11.]
As soon as it had become evident that the entry of Garibaldi into Naples could not be
anticipated by the establishment of Victor Emmanuel's own authority, Cavour
recognised that bold and aggressive action on the part of the National Government was
now necessity. Garibaldi made no secret or his intention to carry the Italian arms to
Rome. The time was past when the national movement could be checked at the
frontiers of Naples and Tuscany. It remained only for Cavour to throw the King's own
troops into the Papal States before Garibaldi could move from Naples, and, while
winning for Italy the last foot of ground that could be won without an actual conflict
with France, to stop short at those limits where the soldiers of Napoleon would
certainly meet an invader with their fire. The Pope was still in possession of the
Marches, of Umbria, and of the territory between the Apennines and the coast from
Orvieto to Terracina. Cavour had good reason to believe that Napoleon would not
strike on behalf of the Temporal Power until this last narrow district was menaced. He
resolved to seize upon the Marches and Umbria, and to brave the consequences. On the
day of Garibaldi's entry into Naples a despatch was sent by Cavour to the Papal
Government requiring, in the name of Victor Emmanuel, the disbandment of the
foreign mercenaries who in the previous spring had plundered Perugia, and whose
presence was a continued menace to the peace of Italy. The announcement now made
by Napoleon that he must break off diplomatic relations with the Sardinian
Government in case of the invasion of the Papal States produced no effect. Cavour
replied that by no other means could he prevent revolution from mastering all Italy, and
on the 10th of September the French ambassador quitted Turin. Without waiting for
Antonelli's answer to his ultimatum, Cavour ordered the King's troops to cross the
frontier. The Papal army was commanded by Lamoricière, a French general who had
gained some reputation in Algiers; but the resistance offered to the Piedmontese was
unexpectedly feeble. The column which entered Umbria reached the southern limit
without encountering any serious opposition except from the Irish garrison of Spoleto.
In the Marches, where Lamoricière had a considerable force at his disposal, the
dispersion of the Papal troops and the incapacity shown in their command brought the
campaign to a rapid and inglorious end. The main body of the defenders was routed on
the Musone, near Loreto, on the 19th of September. Other divisions surrendered, and
Ancona alone remained to Lamoricière. Vigorously attacked in this fortress both by
land and sea, Lamoricière surrendered after a siege of eight days. Within three weeks
from Garibaldi's entry into Naples the Piedmontese army had completed the task
Cavour's successes had not come a day too soon, for Garibaldi, since his entry into
Naples, was falling more and more into the hands of the Party of Action, and, while
protesting his loyalty to Victor Emmanuel, was openly announcing that he would
march the Party of on Rome whether the King's Government permitted it or no. In
Sicily the officials appointed by this Party were proceeding with such violence that
Depretis, unable to obtain troops from Cavour, resigned his post. Garibaldi suddenly
appeared at Palermo on the 11th of September, appointed a new Pro-Dictator, and
repeated to the Sicilians that their union with the Kingdom of Victor Emmanuel must
be postponed until all members of the Italian family were free. But even the personal
presence and the angry words of Garibaldi were powerless to check the strong
expression of Sicilian opinion in favour of immediate and unconditional annexation.
His visit to Palermo was answered by the appearance of a Sicilian deputation at Turin
demanding immediate union, and complaining that the island was treated by Garibaldi's
officers like a conquered province. At Naples the rash and violent utterances of the
Dictator were equally condemned. The Ministers whom he had himself appointed
resigned. Garibaldi replaced them by others who were almost Republicans, and sent a
letter to Victor Emmanuel requesting him to consent to the march upon Rome and to
dismiss Cavour. It was known in Turin that at this very moment Napoleon was taking
steps to increase the French force in Rome, and to garrison the whole of the territory
that still remained to the Pope. Victor Emmanuel understood how to reply to
Garibaldi's letter. He remained true to his Minister, and sent orders to Villamarina at
Naples in case Garibaldi should proclaim the Republic to break off all relations with
him and to secure the fleet. The fall of Ancona on September 28th brought a timely
accession of popularity and credit to Cavour. He made the Parliament which assembled
at Turin four days later arbiter in the struggle between Garibaldi and himself, and
received from it an almost unanimous vote of confidence. Garibaldi would perhaps
have treated lightly any resolution of Parliament which conflicted with his own
opinion: he shrank from a breach with the soldier of Novara and Solferino. Now, as at
other moments of danger, the character and reputation of Victor Emmanuel stood Italy
in good stead. In the enthusiasm which Garibaldi's services to Italy excited in every
patriotic heart, there was room for thankfulness that Italy possessed a sovereign and a
statesman strong enough even to withstand its hero when his heroism endangered the
national cause. [501]
The King of Naples had not yet abandoned the hope that one or more of the European
Powers would intervene in his behalf. The trustworthy part of his army had gathered
round the fortress of Capua on the Volturno, and there were indications that Garibaldi
would here meet with far more serious resistance than he had yet encountered. While
he was still in Naples, his troops, which had pushed northwards, sustained a repulse at
Cajazzo. Emboldened by this success, the Neapolitan army at the beginning of October
assumed the offensive. It was with difficulty that Garibaldi, placing himself again at the
Thus in the spring of 1861, within two years from the outbreak of war with Austria,
Italy with the exception of Rome and Venice was united under Victor Emmanuel. Of
all the European Powers, Great Britain alone watched the creation of the new Italian
Kingdom with complete sympathy and approval. Austria, though it had made peace at
Zürich, declined to renew diplomatic intercourse with Sardinia, and protested against
the assumption by Victor Emmanuel of the title of King of Italy. Russia, the ancient
patron of the Neapolitan Bourbons, declared that geographical conditions alone
prevented its intervention against their despoilers. Prussia, though under a new
sovereign, had not yet completely severed the ties which bound it to Austria.
Nevertheless, in spite of wide political ill-will, and of the passionate hostility of the
clerical party throughout Europe, there was little probability that the work of the Italian
It was in the exposition of these principles, in the enforcement of the common moral
interest of Italian nationality and the Catholic Church, that Cavour gave his last
counsels to the Italian Parliament. He was not himself to lead the nation farther towards
the Promised Land. The immense exertions which he had maintained during the last
three years, the indignation and anxiety caused to him by Garibaldi's attacks, produced
an illness which Cavour's own careless habits of life and the unskilfulness of his
doctors rendered fatal. With dying lips he repeated to those about him the words in
which he had summed up his policy in the Italian Parliament: "A free Church in a free
State." [504] Other Catholic lands had adjusted by Concordats with the Papacy the
conflicting claims of temporal and spiritual authority in such matters as the
appointment of bishops, the regulation of schools, the family-rights of persons married
without ecclesiastical form. Cavour appears to have thought that in Italy, where the
whole nation was in a sense Catholic, the Church might as safely and as easily be left
to manage its own affairs as in the United States, where the Catholic community is only
one among many religious societies. His optimism, his sanguine and large-hearted
tolerance, was never more strikingly shown than in this fidelity to the principle of
liberty, even in the case of those who for the time declined all reconciliation with the
Italian State. Whether Cavour's ideal was an impracticable fancy a later age will decide.
The ascendency within the Church of Rome would seem as yet to have rested with the
elements most opposed to the spirit of the time, most obstinately bent on setting faith
and reason in irreconcilable enmity. In place of that democratic movement within the
hierarchy and the priesthood which Cavour anticipated, absolutism has won a new
crown in the doctrine of Papal Infallibility. Catholic dogma has remained impervious to
the solvents which during the last thirty years have operated with perceptible success
on the theology of Protestant lands. Each conquest made in the world of thought and
knowledge is still noted as the next appropriate object of denunciation by the Vatican.
Nevertheless the cautious spirit will be slow to conclude that hopes like those of
Cavour were wholly vain. A single generation may see but little of the seed-time,
nothing of the harvests that are yet to enrich mankind. And even if all wider interests be
left out of view, enough remains to justify Cavour's policy of respect for the
independence of the Church in the fact that Italy during the thirty years succeeding the
establishment of its union has remained free from civil war. Cavour was wont to refer
to the Constitution which the French National Assembly imposed upon the clergy in
1790 as the type of erroneous legislation. Had his own policy and that of his successors
not been animated by a wiser spirit; had the Government of Italy, after overthrowing
the Pope's temporal sovereignty, sought enemies among the rural priesthood and their
congregations, the provinces added to the Italian Kingdom by Garibaldi would hardly
have been maintained by the House of Savoy without a second and severer struggle.
Between the ideal Italy which filled the thoughts not only of Mazzini but of some of
the best English minds of that time-the land of immemorial greatness, touched once
more by the divine hand and advancing from strength to strength as the intellectual and
moral pioneer among nations-between this ideal and the somewhat hard and
commonplace realities of the Italy of to-day there is indeed little enough resemblance.
Poverty, the pressure of inordinate taxation, the physical and moral habits inherited
from centuries of evil government,-all these have darkened in no common measure the
conditions from which Italian national life has to be built up. If in spite of
overwhelming difficulties each crisis has hitherto been surmounted; if, with all that is
faulty and infirm, the omens for the future of Italy are still favourable, one source of its
good fortune has been the impress given to its ecclesiastical policy by the great
statesman to whom above all other men it owes the accomplishment of its union, and
who, while claiming for Italy the whole of its national inheritance, yet determined to
inflict no needless wound upon the conscience of Rome.
CHAPTER XXIII.
Shortly before the events which broke the power of Austria in Italy, the German people
believed themselves to have entered on a new political era. King Frederick William
IV., who, since 1848, had disappointed every hope that had been fixed on Prussia and
on himself, was compelled by mental disorder to withdraw from public affairs in the
autumn of 1858. His brother, Prince William of Prussia, who had for a year acted as the
King's representative, now assumed the Regency. In the days when King Frederick
William still retained some vestiges of his reputation the Prince of Prussia had been
unpopular, as the supposed head of the reactionary party; but the events of the last few
years had exhibited him in a better aspect. Though strong in his belief both in the
Divine right of kings in general, and in the necessity of a powerful monarchical rule in
Prussia, he was disposed to tolerate, and even to treat with a certain respect, the humble
elements of constitutional government which he found in existence. There was more
manliness in his nature than in that of his brother, more belief in the worth of his own
people. The espionage, the servility, the overdone professions of sanctity in
This change of spirit in the Prussian Government, followed by the events that
established Italian independence, told powerfully upon public opinion throughout
Germany. Hopes that had been crushed in 1849 now revived. With the collapse of
military despotism in the Austrian Empire the clouds of reaction seemed everywhere to
be passing away; it was possible once more to think of German national union and of
common liberties in which all Germans should share. As in 1808 the rising of the
Spaniards against Napoleon had inspired Blücher and his countrymen with the design
of a truly national effort against their foreign oppressor, so in 1859 the work of Cavour
challenged the Germans to prove that their national patriotism and their political
aptitude were not inferior to those of the Italian people. Men who had been prominent
in the National Assembly at Frankfort again met one another and spoke to the nation.
In the Parliaments of several of the minor States resolutions were brought forward in
favour of the creation of a central German authority. Protests were made against the
infringement of constitutional rights that had been common during the last ten years;
patriotic meetings and demonstrations were held; and a National Society, in imitation
of that which had prepared the way for union with Piedmont in Central and Southern
Italy, was formally established. There was indeed no such preponderating opinion in
favour of Prussian leadership as had existed in 1848. The southern States had displayed
a strong sympathy with Austria in its war with Napoleon III., and had regarded the
neutrality of Prussia during the Italian campaign as a desertion of the German cause.
Here there were few who looked with friendly eye upon Berlin. It was in the minor
states of the north, and especially in Hesse-Cassel, where the struggle between the
Elector and his subjects was once more breaking out, that the strongest hopes were
directed towards the new Prussian ruler, and the measures of his government were the
most anxiously watched.
The Prince Regent was a soldier by profession and habit. He was born in 1797, and had
been present at the battle of Arcis-sur-Aube, the last fought by Napoleon against the
Allies in 1814. During forty years he had served on every commission that had been
occupied with Prussian military affairs; no man better understood the military
organisation of his country, no man more clearly recognised its capacities and its faults.
The defective condition of the Prussian army had been the principal, though not the
sole, cause of the miserable submission to Austria at Olmütz in 1850, and of the
abandonment of all claims to German leadership on the part of the Court of Berlin. The
Prince would himself have risked all chances of disaster rather than inflict upon Prussia
the humiliation with which King Frederick William then purchased peace; but
Manteuffel had convinced his sovereign that the army could not engage in a campaign
against Austria without ruin. Military impotence was the only possible justification for
the policy then adopted, and the Prince determined that Prussia should not under his
own rule have the same excuse for any political shortcomings. The work of
reorganisation was indeed begun during the reign of Frederick William IV., through the
enforcement of the three-years' service to which the conscript was liable by law, but
which had fallen during the long period of peace to two-years' service. The number of
troops with the colours was thus largely increased, but no addition had been made to
the yearly levy, and no improvement attempted in the organisation of the Landwehr.
When in 1859 the order for mobilisation was given in consequence of the Italian war, it
was discovered that the Landwehr battalions were almost useless. The members of this
force were mostly married men approaching middle life, who had been too long
engaged in other pursuits to resume their military duties with readiness, and whose call
to the field left their families without means of support and chargeable upon the public
purse. Too much, in the judgment of the reformers of the Prussian army, was required
from men past youth, not enough from youth itself. The plan of the Prince Regent was
therefore to enforce in the first instance with far more stringency the law imposing the
universal obligation to military service; and, while thus raising the annual levy from
40,000 to 60,000 men, to extend the period of service in the Reserve, into which the
young soldier passed on the completion of his three years with the colours, from two to
four years. Asserting with greater rigour its claim to seven years in the early life of the
citizen, the State would gain, without including the Landwehr, an effective army of
four hundred thousand men, and would practically be able to dispense with the service
of those who were approaching middle life, except in cases of great urgency. In the
execution of this reform the Government could on its own authority enforce the
increased levy and the full three years' service in the standing army; for the
prolongation of service in the Reserve, and for the greater expenditure entailed by the
new system, the consent of Parliament was necessary.
The general principles on which the proposed reorganisation was based were accepted
by public opinion and by both Chambers of Parliament; it was, however, held by the
Liberal leaders that the increase of expenditure might, without impairing the efficiency
of the army, be avoided by returning to the system of two-years service with the
colours, which during so long a period had been thought sufficient for the training of
the soldier. The Regent, however, was convinced that the discipline and the instruction
The new Parliament assembled at the beginning of 1862. Under the impulse of public
opinion, the Government was now beginning to adopt a more vigorous policy in
German affairs, and to re-assert Prussia's claims to an independent leadership in
defiance of the restored Diet of Frankfort. But the conflict with the Lower Chamber
was not to be averted by revived energy abroad. The Army Bill, which was passed at
once by the Upper House, was referred to a hostile Committee on reaching the
Chamber of Deputies, and a resolution was carried insisting on the right of the
representatives of the people to a far more effective control over the Budget than they
had hitherto exercised. The result of this vote was the dissolution of Parliament by the
King, and the resignation of the Ministry, with the exception of General Roon, Minister
of War, and two of the most conservative among his colleagues. Prince Hohenlohe,
President of the Upper House, became chief of the Government. There was now an
open and undisguised conflict between the Crown and the upholders of Parliamentary
rights. "King or Parliament" was the expression in which the newly-appointed
Ministers themselves summed up the struggle. The utmost pressure was exerted by the
Government in the course of the elections which followed, but in vain. The Progressist
Party returned in overwhelming strength to the new Parliament; the voice of the
country seemed unmistakably to condemn the policy to which the King and his
advisers were committed. After a long and sterile discussion in the Budget Committee,
the debate on the Army Bill began in the Lower House on the 11th of September. Its
principal clauses were rejected by an almost unanimous vote. An attempt made by
General Roon to satisfy his opponents by a partial and conditional admission of the
[Bismarck.]
The new Minister was, like Cavour, a country gentleman, and, like Cavour, he owed
his real entry into public life to the revolutionary movement of 1848. He had indeed
held some obscure official posts before that epoch, but it was as a member of the
United Diet which assembled at Berlin in April, 1848, that he first attracted the
attention of King or people. He was one of two Deputies who refused to join in the vote
of thanks to Frederick William IV. for the Constitution which he had promised to
Prussia. Bismarck, then thirty-three years old, was a Royalist of Royalists, the type, as
it seemed, of the rough and masterful Junker, or Squire, of the older parts of Prussia, to
whom all reforms from those of Stein downwards were hateful, all ideas but those of
the barrack and the kennel alien. Others in the spring of 1848 lamented the concessions
made by the Crown to the people; Bismarck had the courage to say so. When reaction
came there were naturally many, and among them King Frederick William, who were
interested in the man who in the heyday of constitutional enthusiasm had treated the
whole movement as so much midsummer madness, and had remained faithful to
monarchical authority as the one thing needful for the Prussian State. Bismarck
continued to take a prominent part in the Parliaments of Berlin and Erfurt; it was not,
however, till 1851 that he passed into the inner official circle. He was then sent as the
representative of Prussia to the restored Diet of Frankfort. As an absolutist and a
conservative, brought up in the traditions of the Holy Alliance, Bismarck had in earlier
days looked up to Austria as the mainstay of monarchical order and the historic barrier
against the flood of democratic and wind-driven sentiment which threatened to deluge
Germany. He had even approved the surrender made at Olmütz in 1850, as a matter of
necessity; but the belief now grew strong in his mind, and was confirmed by all he saw
at Frankfort, that Austria under Schwarzenberg's rule was no longer the Power which
had been content to share the German leadership with Prussia in the period before
1848, but a Power which meant to rule in Germany uncontrolled. In contact with the
representatives of that outworn system which Austria had resuscitated at Frankfort, and
with the instruments of the dominant State itself, Bismarck soon learnt to detest the
paltriness of the one and the insolence of the other. He declared the so-called Federal
system to be a mere device for employing the secondary German States for the
aggrandisement of Austria and the humiliation of Prussia. The Court of Vienna, and
with it the Diet of Frankfort, became in his eyes the enemy of Prussian greatness and
independence. During the Crimean war he was the vigorous opponent of an alliance
with the Western Powers, not only from distrust of France, and from regard towards
Russia as on the whole the most constant and the most natural ally of his own country,
but from the conviction that Prussia ought to assert a national policy wholly
independent of that of the Court of Vienna. That the Emperor of Austria was
approaching more or less nearly to union with France and England was, in Bismarck's
view, a good reason why Prussia should stand fast in its relations of friendship with St.
Petersburg. [506] The policy of neutrality, which King Frederick William and
Manteuffel adopted more out of disinclination to strenuous action than from any clear
political view, was advocated by Bismarck for reasons which, if they made Europe
nothing and Prussia everything, were at least inspired by a keen and accurate
perception of Prussia's own interests in its present and future relations with its
neighbours. When the reign of Frederick William ended, Bismarck, who stood high in
the confidence of the new Regent, was sent as ambassador to St. Petersburg. He
subsequently represented Prussia for a short time at the Court of Napoleon III., and was
recalled by the King from Paris in the autumn of 1862 in order to be placed at the head
of the Government. Far better versed in diplomacy than in ordinary administration, he
assumed, together with the Presidency of the Cabinet, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.
There were now at the head of the Prussian State three men eminently suited to work
with one another, and to carry out, in their own rough and military fashion, the policy
which was to unite Germany under the House of Hohenzollern. The King, Bismarck,
and Roon were thoroughly at one in their aim, the enforcement of Prussia's ascendency
by means of the army. The designs of the Minister, which expanded with success and
which involved a certain daring in the choice of means, were at each new development
so ably veiled or disclosed, so dexterously presented to the sovereign, as to overcome
his hesitation on striking into many an unaccustomed path. Roon and his workmen,
who, in the face of a hostile Parliament and a hostile Press, had to supply to Bismarck
what a foreign alliance and enthusiastic national sentiment had supplied to Cavour,
forged for Prussia a weapon of such temper that, against the enemies on whom it was
employed, no extraordinary genius was necessary to render its thrust fatal. It was no
doubt difficult for the Prime Minister, without alarming his sovereign and without risk
of an immediate breach with Austria, to make his ulterior aims so clear as to carry the
Parliament with him in the policy of military reorganisation. Words frank even to
brutality were uttered by him, but they sounded more like menace and bluster than the
explanation of a well-considered plan. "Prussia must keep its forces together," he said
in one of his first Parliamentary appearances, "its boundaries are not those of a sound
State. The great questions of the time are to be decided not by speeches and votes of
majorities but by blood and iron." After the experience of 1848 and 1850, a not too
despondent political observer might well have formed the conclusion that nothing less
than the military overthrow of Austria could give to Germany any tolerable system of
national government, or even secure to Prussia its legitimate field of action. This was
the keystone of Bismarck's belief, but he failed to make his purpose and his motives
intelligible to the representatives of the Prussian people. He was taken for a mere bully
and absolutist of the old type. His personal characteristics, his arrogance, his sarcasm,
his habit of banter, exasperated and inflamed. Roon was no better suited to the
atmosphere of a popular assembly. Each encounter of the Ministers with the Chamber
embittered the struggle and made reconciliation more difficult. The Parliamentary
system of Prussia seemed threatened in its very existence when, after the rejection by
the Chamber of Deputies of the clause in the Budget providing for the cost of the
army-reorganisation, this clause was restored by the Upper House, and the Budget of
the Government passed in its original form. By the terms of the Constitution the right
of the Upper House in matters of taxation was limited to the approval or rejection of
the Budget sent up to it from the Chamber of Representatives. It possessed no power of
amendment. Bismarck, however, had formed the theory that in the event of a
disagreement between the two Houses a situation arose for which the Constitution had
not provided, and in which therefore the Crown was still possessed of its old absolute
authority. No compromise, no negotiation between the two Houses, was, in his view, to
be desired. He was resolved to govern and to levy taxes without a Budget, and had
obtained the King's permission to close the session immediately the Upper House had
given its vote. But before the order for prorogation could be brought down the
President of the Lower Chamber had assembled his colleagues, and the unanimous vote
of those present declared the action of the Upper House null and void. In the agitation
attending this trial of strength between the Crown, the Ministry and the Upper House
on one side and the Representative Chamber on the other the session of 1862 closed.
[507]
[King William.]
The Deputies, returning to their constituencies, carried with them the spirit of combat,
and received the most demonstrative proofs of popular sympathy and support.
Representations of great earnestness were made to the King, but they failed to shake in
the slightest degree his confidence in his Minister, or to bend his fixed resolution to
carry out his military reforms to the end. The claim of Parliament to interfere with
matters of military organisation in Prussia touched him in his most sensitive point. He
declared that the aim of his adversaries was nothing less than the establishment of a
Parliamentary instead of a royal army. In perfect sincerity he believed that the
convulsions of 1848 were on the point of breaking out afresh. "You mourn the conflict
between the Crown and the national representatives," he said to the spokesman of an
important society; "do I not mourn it? I sleep no single night." The anxiety, the
despondency of the sovereign were shared by the friends of Prussia throughout
Germany; its enemies saw with wonder that Bismarck in his struggle with the educated
Liberalism of the middle classes did not shrink from dalliance with the Socialist leaders
and their organs. When Parliament reassembled at the beginning of 1863 the conflict
was resumed with even greater heat. The Lower Chamber carried an address to the
King, which, while dwelling on the loyalty of the Prussian people to their chief,
charged the Ministers with violating the Constitution, and demanded their dismissal.
The King refused to receive the deputation which was to present the address, and in the
written communication in which he replied to it he sharply reproved the Assembly for
their errors and presumption. It was in vain that the Army Bill was again introduced.
The House, while allowing the ordinary military expenditure for the year, struck out the
costs of the reorganisation, and declared Ministers personally answerable for the sums
expended. Each appearance of the leading members of the Cabinet now became the
signal for contumely and altercation. The decencies of debate ceased to be observed on
either side. When the President attempted to set some limit to the violence of Bismarck
and Roon, and, on resistance to his authority, terminated the sitting, the Ministers
declared that they would no longer appear in a Chamber where freedom of speech was
denied to them. Affairs came to a deadlock. The Chamber again appealed to the King,
and insisted that reconciliation between the Crown and the nation was impossible so
long as the present Ministers remained in office. The King, now thoroughly indignant,
charged the Assembly with attempting to win for itself supreme power, expressed his
gratitude to his Ministers for their resistance to this usurpation, and declared himself
too confident in the loyalty of the Prussian people to be intimidated by threats. His
reply was followed by the prorogation of the Assembly (May 26th). A dissolution
would have been worse than useless, for in the actual state of public opinion the
Opposition would probably have triumphed throughout the country. It only remained
for Bismarck to hold his ground, and, having silenced the Parliament for a while, to
silence the Press also by the exercise of autocratic power. The Constitution authorised
The course which affairs were taking at Berlin excited the more bitter regret and
disappointment among all friends of Prussia as at this very time it seemed that
constitutional government was being successfully established in the western part of the
Austrian Empire. The centralised military despotism with which Austria emerged from
the convulsions of 1848 had been allowed ten years of undisputed sway; at the end of
this time it had brought things to such a pass that, after a campaign in which there had
been but one great battle, and while still in possession of a vast army and an unbroken
chain of fortresses, Austria stood powerless to move hand or foot. It was not the defeat
of Solferino or the cession of Lombardy that exhibited the prostration of Austria's
power, but the fact that while the conditions of the Peace of Zürich were swept away,
and Italy was united under Victor Emmanuel in defiance of the engagements made by
Napoleon III. at Villafranca, the Austrian Emperor was compelled to look on with
folded arms. To have drawn the sword again, to have fired a shot in defence of the
Pope's temporal power or on behalf of the vassal princes of Tuscany and Modena,
would have been to risk the existence of the Austrian monarchy. The State was all but
bankrupt; rebellion might at any moment break out in Hungary, which had already sent
thousands of soldiers to the Italian camp. Peace at whatever price was necessary
abroad, and at home the system of centralised despotism could no longer exist, come
what might in its place. It was natural that the Emperor should but imperfectly
understand at the first the extent of the concessions which it was necessary for him to
make. He determined that the Provincial Councils which Schwarzenberg had promised
in 1850 should be called into existence, and that a Council of the Empire (Reichsrath),
drawn in part from these, should assemble at Vienna, to advise, though not to control,
the Government in matters of finance. So urgent, however, were the needs of the
exchequer, that the Emperor proceeded at once to the creation of the Central Council,
and nominated its first members himself. (March, 1860.)
[Hungary.]
That the Hungarian members nominated by the Emperor would decline to appear at
Vienna unless some further guarantee was given for the restoration of Hungarian
liberty was well known. The Emperor accordingly promised to restore the ancient
The Magyars had conquered their King; and all the impetuous patriotism that had been
crushed down since the ruin of 1849 now again burst into flame. The County
Assemblies met, and elected as their officers men who had been condemned to death in
1849 and who were living in exile; they swept away the existing law-courts, refused the
taxes, and proclaimed the legislation of 1848 again in force. Francis Joseph seemed
anxious to avert a conflict, and to prove both in Hungary and in the other parts of the
Empire the sincerity of his promises of reform, on which the nature of the provincial
Constitutions which were published immediately after the Diploma of October had
thrown some doubt. At the instance of his Hungarian advisers he dismissed the chief of
his Cabinet, and called to office Schmerling, who, in 1848, had been Prime Minister of
the German National Government at Frankfort. Schmerling at once promised important
changes in the provincial systems drawn up by his predecessor, but in his dealings with
Hungary he proved far less tractable than the Magyars had expected. If the Hungarians
had recovered their own constitutional forms, they still stood threatened with the
supremacy of a Central Council in all that related to themselves in common with the
rest of the Empire, and against this they rebelled. But from the establishment of this
Council of the Empire neither the Emperor nor Schmerling would recede. An edict of
February 26th, 1861, while it made good the changes promised by Schmerling in the
several provincial systems, confirmed the general provisions of the Diploma of
In the following April the Provincial Diets met throughout the Austrian Empire, and
the Diet of the Hungarian Kingdom assembled at Pesth. The first duty of each of these
bodies was to elect representatives to the Council of the Empire which was to meet at
Vienna. Neither Hungary nor Croatia, however, would elect such representatives, each
claiming complete legislative independence, and declining to recognise any such
external authority as it was now proposed to create. The Emperor warned the
Hungarian Diet against the consequences of its action; but the national spirit of the
Magyars was thoroughly roused, and the County Assemblies vied with one another in
the violence of their addresses to the Sovereign. The Diet, reviving the Constitutional
difficulties connected with the abdication of Ferdinand, declared that it would only
negotiate for the coronation of Francis Joseph after the establishment of a Hungarian
Ministry and the restoration of Croatia and Transylvania to the Hungarian Kingdom.
Accepting Schmerling's contention that the ancient constitutional rights of Hungary had
been extinguished by rebellion, the Emperor insisted on the establishment of a Council
for the whole Empire, and refused to recede from the declarations which he had made
in the edict of February. The Diet hereupon protested, in a long and vigorous address to
the King, against the validity of all laws made without its own concurrence, and
declared that Francis Joseph had rendered an agreement between the King and the
nation impossible. A dissolution followed. The County Assemblies took up the national
struggle. They in their turn were suppressed; their officers were dismissed, and military
rule was established throughout the land, though with explicit declarations on the part
of the King that it was to last only till the legally existing Constitution could be brought
into peaceful working. [509]
Meanwhile the Central Representative Body, now by enlargement of its functions and
increase in the number of its members made into a Parliament of the Empire,
assembled at Vienna. Its real character was necessarily altered by the absence of
representatives from Hungary; and for some time the Government seemed disposed to
limit its competence to the affairs of the Cis-Leithan provinces; but after satisfying
himself that no accord with Hungary was possible, the Emperor announced this fact to
the Assembly, and bade it perform its part as the organ of the Empire at large, without
regard to the abstention of those who did not choose to exercise their rights. The
Budget for the entire Empire was accordingly submitted to the Assembly, and for the
first time the expenditure of the Austrian State was laid open to public examination and
criticism. The first session of this Parliament lasted, with adjournments, from May,
1861, to December, 1862. In legislation it effected little, but its relations as a whole
with the Government remained excellent, and its long-continued activity, unbroken by
popular disturbances, did much to raise the fallen credit of the Austrian State and to
One of the reproaches brought against Bismarck by the Progressist majority in the
Parliament of Berlin was that he had isolated Prussia both in Germany and in Europe.
That he had roused against the Government of his country the public opinion of
Germany was true: that he had alienated Prussia from all Europe was not the case; on
the contrary, he had established a closer relation between the Courts of Berlin and St.
Petersburg than had existed at any time since the commencement of the Regency, and
had secured for Prussia a degree of confidence and goodwill on the part of the Czar
which, in the memorable years that were to follow, served it scarcely less effectively
than an armed alliance. Russia, since the Crimean War, had seemed to be entering upon
an epoch of boundless change. The calamities with which the reign of Nicholas had
closed had excited in that narrow circle of Russian society where thought had any
existence a vehement revulsion against the sterile and unchanging system of repression,
the grinding servitude of the last thirty years. From the Emperor downwards all
educated men believed not only that the system of government, but that the whole order
of Russian social life, must be recast. The ferment of ideas which marks an age of
revolution was in full course; but in what forms the new order was to be moulded,
through what processes Russia was to be brought into its new life, no one knew. Russia
was wanting in capable statesmen; it was even more conspicuously wanting in the class
of serviceable and intelligent agents of Government of the second rank. Its monarch,
Alexander II., humane and well-meaning, was irresolute and vacillating beyond the
measure of ordinary men. He was not only devoid of all administrative and organising
faculty himself, but so infirm of purpose that Ministers whose policy he had accepted
feared to let him pass out of their sight, lest in the course of a single journey or a single
interview he should succumb to the persuasions of some rival politician. In no country
in Europe was there such incoherence, such self-contradiction, such absence of unity of
plan and purpose in government as in Russia, where all nominally depended upon a
single will. Pressed and tormented by all the rival influences that beat upon the centre
of a great empire, Alexander seems at times to have played off against one another as
colleagues in the same branch of Government the representatives of the most opposite
schools of action, and, after assenting to the plans of one group of advisers, to have
committed the execution of these plans, by way of counterpoise, to those who had most
opposed them. But, like other weak men, he dreaded nothing so much as the reproach
of weakness or inconstancy; and in the cloud of half-formed or abandoned purposes
there were some few to which he resolutely adhered. The chief of these, the great
achievement of his reign, was the liberation of the serfs.
Provinces. With the completion of the Edict of Emancipation his power of resistance
was exhausted, and its execution was committed by him to those who had been its
opponents. That some of the evils which have mingled with the good in Russian
enfranchisement might have been less had the Czar resolutely stood by the authors of
reform and allowed them to complete their work in accordance with their own designs
and convictions, is scarcely open to doubt. [510]
It had been the belief of educated men in Russia that the emancipation of the serf
would be but the first of a series of great organic changes, bringing their country more
nearly to the political and social level of its European neighbours. This belief was not
fulfilled. Work of importance was done in the reconstruction of the judicial system of
Russia, but in the other reforms expected little was accomplished. An insurrection
which broke out in Poland at the beginning of 1863 diverted the energies of the
Government from all other objects; and in the overpowering outburst of Russian
patriotism and national feeling which it excited, domestic reforms, no less than the
ideals of Western civilisation, lost their interest. The establishment of Italian
independence, coinciding in time with the general unsettlement and expectation of
change which marked the first years of Alexander's reign, had stirred once more the
ill-fated hopes of the Polish national leaders. From the beginning of the year 1861
Warsaw was the scene of repeated tumults. The Czar was inclined, within certain
limits, to a policy of conciliation. The separate Legislature and separate army which
Poland had possessed from 1815 to 1830 he was determined not to restore; but he was
willing to give Poland a large degree of administrative autonomy, to confide the
principal offices in its Government to natives, and generally to relax something of that
close union with Russia which had been enforced by Nicholas since the rebellion of
1831. But the concessions of the Czar, accompanied as they were by acts of repression
and severity, were far from satisfying the demands of Polish patriotism. It was in vain
that Alexander in the summer of 1862 sent his brother Constantine as Viceroy to
Warsaw, established a Polish Council of State, placed a Pole, Wielopolski, at the head
of the Administration, superseded all the Russian governors of Polish provinces by
natives, and gave to the municipalities and the districts the right of electing local
councils; these concessions seemed nothing, and were in fact nothing, in comparison
with the national independence which the Polish leaders claimed. The situation grew
worse and worse. An attempt made upon the life of the Grand Duke Constantine during
his entry into Warsaw was but one among a series of similar acts which discredited the
Polish cause and strengthened those who at St. Petersburg had from the first
condemned the Czar's attempts at conciliation. At length the Russian Government took
the step which precipitated revolt. A levy of one in every two hundred of the
population throughout the Empire had been ordered in the autumn of 1862. Instructions
were sent from St. Petersburg to the effect that in raising this levy in Poland the country
population were to be spared, and that all persons who were known to be connected
with the disorders in the towns were to be seized as soldiers. This terrible sentence
against an entire political class was carried out, so far as it lay within the power of the
authorities, on the night of January 14th, 1863. But before the imperial press-gang
surrounded the houses of its victims a rumour of the intended blow had gone abroad. In
the preceding hours, and during the night of the 14th, thousands fled from Warsaw and
the other Polish towns into the forests. There they formed themselves into armed bands,
and in the course of the next few days a guerilla warfare broke out wherever Russian
troops were found in insufficient strength or off their guard. [511]
The classes in which the national spirit of Poland lived were the so-called noblesse,
numbering hundreds of thousands, the town populations, and the priesthood. The
peasants, crushed and degraded, though not nominally in servitude, were indifferent to
the national cause. On the neutrality, if not on the support, of the peasants the Russian
Government could fairly reckon; within the towns it found itself at once confronted by
an invisible national Government whose decrees were printed and promulgated by
unknown hands, and whose sentences of death were mercilessly executed against those
whom it condemned as enemies or traitors to the national cause. So extraordinary was
the secrecy which covered the action of this National Executive, that Milutine, who
was subsequently sent by the Czar to examine into the affairs of Poland, formed the
conclusion that it had possessed accomplices within the Imperial Government at St.
Petersburg itself. The Polish cause retained indeed some friends in Russia even after
the outbreak of the insurrection; it was not until the insurrection passed the frontier of
the kingdom and was carried by the nobles into Lithuania and Podolia that the entire
Russian nation took up the struggle with passionate and vindictive ardour as one for
life or death. It was the fatal bane of Polish nationality that the days of its greatness had
left it a claim upon vast territories where it had planted nothing but a territorial
aristocracy, and where the mass of population, if not actually Russian, was almost
indistinguishable from the Russians in race and language, and belonged like them to
the Greek Church, which Catholic Poland had always persecuted. For ninety years
Lithuania and the border provinces had been incorporated with the Czar's dominions,
and with the exception of their Polish landowners they were now in fact thoroughly
Russian. When therefore the nobles of these provinces declared that Poland must be
reconstituted with the limits of 1772, and subsequently took up arms in concert with the
insurrectionary Government at Warsaw, the Russian people, from the Czar to the
peasant, felt the struggle to be nothing less than one for the dismemberment or the
preservation of their own country, and the doom of Polish nationality, at least for some
generations, was sealed. The diplomatic intervention of the Western Powers on behalf
of the constitutional rights of Poland under the Treaty of Vienna, which was to some
extent supported by Austria, only prolonged a hopeless struggle, and gave unbounded
popularity to Prince Gortschakoff, by whom, after a show of courteous attention during
the earlier and still perilous stage of the insurrection, the interference of the Powers was
resolutely and unconditionally repelled. By the spring of 1864 the insurgents were
crushed or exterminated. General Muravieff, the Governor of Lithuania, fulfilled his
task against the mutinous nobles of this province with unshrinking severity, sparing
neither life nor fortune so long as an enemy of Russia remained to be overthrown. It
was at Wilna, the Lithuanian capital, not at Warsaw, that the terrors of Russian
repression were the greatest. Muravieff's executions may have been less numerous than
is commonly supposed; but in the form of pecuniary requisitions and fines he
undoubtedly aimed at nothing less than the utter ruin of a great part of the class most
implicated in the rebellion.
In Poland itself the Czar, after some hesitation, determined once and for all to establish
a friend to Russia in every homestead of the kingdom by making the peasant owner of
the land on which he laboured. The insurrectionary Government at the outbreak of the
Milutine, who, with all the fiery ardour of his national and levelling policy, seems to
have been a gentle and somewhat querulous invalid, and who was shortly afterwards
struck down by paralysis, to remain a helpless spectator of the European changes of the
next six years, had no share in that warfare against the language, the religion, and the
national culture of Poland with which Russia has pursued its victory since 1863. The
public life of Poland he was determined to Russianise; its private and social life he
would probably have left unmolested, relying on the goodwill of the great mass of
peasants who owed their proprietorship to the action of the Czar. There were, however,
politicians at Moscow and St. Petersburg who believed that the deep-lying instinct of
nationality would for the first time be called into real life among these peasants by their
very elevation from misery to independence, and that where Russia had hitherto had
three hundred thousand enemies Milutine was preparing for it six millions. It was the
dread of this possibility in the future, the apprehension that material interests might not
permanently vanquish the subtler forces which pass from generation to generation,
latent, if still unconscious, where nationality itself is not lost, that made the Russian
It was a matter of no small importance to Bismarck and to Prussia that in the years
1863 and 1864 the Court of St. Petersburg found itself confronted with affairs of such
seriousness in Poland. From the opportunity which was then presented to him of
obliging an important neighbour, and of profiting by that neighbour's conjoined
embarrassment and goodwill, Bismarck drew full advantage. He had always regarded
the Poles as a mere nuisance in Europe, and heartily despised the Germans for the
sympathy which they had shown towards Poland in 1848. When the insurrection of
1863 broke out, Bismarck set the policy of his own country in emphatic contrast with
that of Austria and the Western Powers, and even entered into an arrangement with
Russia for an eventual military combination in case the insurgents should pass from
one side to the other of the frontier. [513] Throughout the struggle with the Poles, and
throughout the diplomatic conflict with the Western Powers, the Czar had felt secure in
the loyalty of the stubborn Minister at Berlin; and when, at the close of the Polish
revolt, the events occurred which opened to Prussia the road to political fortune,
Bismarck received his reward in the liberty of action given him by the Russian
Government. The difficulties connected with Schleswig-Holstein, which, after a short
interval of tranquillity following the settlement of 1852, had again begun to trouble
Europe, were forced to the very front of Continental affairs by the death of Frederick
VII., King of Denmark, in November, 1863. Prussia had now at its head a statesman
resolved to pursue to their extreme limit the chances which this complication offered to
his own country; and, more fortunate than his predecessors of 1848, Bismarck had not
to dread the interference of the Czar of Russia as the patron and protector of the
interests of the Danish court.
[Schleswig-Holstein, 1852-1863.]
By the Treaty of London, signed on May 8th, 1852, all the great Powers, including
Prussia, had recognised the principle of the integrity of the Danish Monarchy, and had
pronounced Prince Christian of Glücksburg to be heir-presumptive to the whole
dominions of the reigning King. The rights of the German Federation in Holstein were
nevertheless declared to remain unprejudiced; and in a Convention made with Austria
Affairs had reached this stage, and the execution had not yet been put in force, when,
on the 15th of November, King Frederick VII. died. For a moment it appeared possible
that his successor, Prince Christian of Glücksburg, might avert the conflict with
Germany by withdrawing from the position which his predecessor had taken up. But
the Danish people and Ministry were little inclined to give way; the Constitution had
passed through Parliament two days before King Frederick's death, and on the 18th of
November it received the assent of the new monarch. German national feeling was now
[Plans of Bismarck.]
From this time the history of Germany is the history of the profound and audacious
statecraft and of the overmastering will of Bismarck; the nation, except through its
valour on the battle-field, ceases to influence the shaping of its own fortunes. What the
German people desired in 1864 was that Schleswig-Holstein should be attached, under
a ruler of its own, to the German Federation as it then existed; what Bismarck intended
was that Schleswig-Holstein, itself incorporated more or less directly with Prussia,
should be made the means of the destruction of the existing Federal system and of the
expulsion of Austria from Germany. That another petty State, bound to Prussia by no
closer tie than its other neighbours, should be added to the troop among whom Austria
found its vassals and its instruments, would have been in Bismarck's eyes no gain but
actual detriment to Germany. The German people desired one course of action;
Bismarck had determined on something totally different; and with matchless resolution
and skill he bore down all opposition of people and of Courts, and forced a reluctant
nation to the goal which he had himself chosen for it. The first point of conflict was the
apparent recognition by Bismarck of the rights of King Christian IX. as lawful
sovereign in the Duchies as well as in the rest of the Danish State. By the Treaty of
London Prussia had indeed pledged itself to this recognition; but the German
Federation had been no party to the Treaty, and under the pressure of a vehement
national agitation Bavaria and the minor States one after another recognised Frederick
of Augustenburg as Duke of Schleswig-Holstein. Bismarck was accused alike by the
Prussian Parliament and by the popular voice of Germany at large of betraying German
interests to Denmark, of abusing Prussia's position as a Great Power, of inciting the
nation to civil war. In vain he declared that, while surrendering no iota of German
rights, the Government of Berlin must recognise those treaty-obligations with which its
own legal title to a voice in the affairs of Schleswig was intimately bound up, and that
the King of Prussia, not a multitude of irresponsible and ill-informed citizens, must be
the judge of the measures by which German interests were to be effectually protected.
His words made no single convert either in the Prussian Parliament or in the Federal
Diet. At Frankfort the proposal made by the two leading Powers that King Christian
should be required to annul the November Constitution, and that in case of his refusal
Schleswig also should be occupied, was rejected, as involving an acknowledgment of
Against the overwhelming forces by which they were thus attacked the Danes could
only make a brave but ineffectual resistance. Their first line of defence was the
Danewerke, a fortification extending east and west towards the sea from the town of
Schleswig. Prince Frederick Charles, who commanded the Prussian right, was repulsed
in an attack upon the easternmost part of this work at Missunde; the Austrians,
however, carried some positions in the centre which commanded the defenders' lines,
and the Danes fell back upon the fortified post of Düppel, covering the narrow channel
which separates the island of Alsen from the mainland. Here for some weeks they held
the Prussians in check, while the Austrians, continuing the march northwards, entered
Jutland. At length, on the 18th of April, after several hours of heavy bombardment, the
lines of Düppel were taken by storm and the defenders driven across the channel into
Alsen. Unable to pursue the enemy across this narrow strip of sea, the Prussians joined
their allies in Jutland, and occupied the whole of the Danish mainland as far as the Lüm
Fiord. The war, however, was not to be terminated without an attempt on the part of the
neutral Powers to arrive at a settlement by diplomacy. A Conference was opened at
London on the 20th of April, and after three weeks of negotiation the belligerents were
The first proposition laid before the Conference was that submitted by Bernstorff, the
Prussian envoy, to the effect that Schleswig-Holstein should receive complete
independence, the question whether King Christian or some other prince should be
sovereign of the new State being reserved for future settlement. To this the Danish
envoys replied that even on the condition of personal union with Denmark through the
Crown they could not assent to the grant of complete independence to the Duchies.
Raising their demand in consequence of this refusal, and declaring that the war had
made an end of the obligations subsisting under the London Treaty of 1852, the two
German Powers then demanded that Schleswig-Holstein should be completely
separated from Denmark and formed into a single State under Frederick of
Augustenburg, who in the eyes of Germany possessed the best claim to the succession.
Lord Russell, while denying that the acts or defaults of Denmark could liberate Austria
and Prussia from their engagements made with other Powers in the Treaty of London,
admitted that no satisfactory result was likely to arise from the continued union of the
Duchies with Denmark, and suggested that King Christian should make an absolute
cession of Holstein and of the southern part of Schleswig, retaining the remainder in
full sovereignty. The frontier-line he proposed to draw at the River Schlei. To this
principle of partition both Denmark and the German Powers assented, but it proved
impossible to reach an agreement on the frontier-line. Bernstorff, who had at first
required nearly all Schleswig, abated his demands, and would have accepted a line
drawn westward from Flensburg, so leaving to Denmark at least half the province,
including the important position of Düppel. The terms thus offered to Denmark were
not unfavourable. Holstein it did not expect, and could scarcely desire, to retain; and
the territory which would have been taken from it in Schleswig under this arrangement
included few districts that were not really German. But the Government of
Copenhagen, misled by the support given to it at the Conference by England and
Russia-a support which was one of words only-refused to cede anything north of the
town of Schleswig. Even when in the last resort Lord Russell proposed that the
frontier-line should be settled by arbitration the Danish Government held fast to its
refusal, and for the sake of a few miles of territory plunged once more into a struggle
which, if it was not to kindle a European war of vast dimensions, could end only in the
ruin of the Danes. The expected help failed them. Attacked and overthrown in the
island of Alsen, the German flag carried to the northern extremity of their mainland,
they were compelled to make peace on their enemies' terms. Hostilities were brought to
a close by the signature of Preliminaries on the 1st of August; and by the Treaty of
Vienna, concluded on the 30th of October, 1864, King Christian ceded his rights in the
whole of Schleswig-Holstein to the sovereigns of Austria and Prussia jointly, and
undertook to recognise whatever dispositions they might make of those provinces.
The British Government throughout this conflict had played a sorry part, at one
moment threatening the Germans, at another using language towards the Danes which
might well be taken to indicate an intention of lending them armed support. To some
extent the errors of the Cabinet were due to the relation which existed between Great
Britain and Napoleon III. It had up to this time been considered both at London and at
Paris that the Allies of the Crimea had still certain common interests in Europe; and in
the unsuccessful intervention at St. Petersburg on behalf of Poland in 1863 the British
and French Governments had at first gone hand in hand. But behind every step openly
taken by Napoleon III. there was some half-formed design for promoting the interests
of his dynasty or extending the frontiers of France; and if England had consented to
support the diplomatic concert at St. Petersburg by measures of force, it would have
found itself engaged in a war in which other ends than those relating to Poland would
have been the foremost. Towards the close of the year 1863 Napoleon had proposed
that a European Congress should assemble, in order to regulate not only the affairs of
Poland but all those European questions which remained unsettled. This proposal had
been abruptly declined by the English Government; and when in the course of the
Danish war Lord Palmerston showed an inclination to take up arms if France would do
the same, Napoleon was probably not sorry to have the opportunity of repaying
England for its rejection of his own overtures in the previous year. He had moreover
hopes of obtaining from Prussia an extension of the French frontier either in Belgium
or towards the Rhine.[517] In reply to overtures from London, Napoleon stated that the
cause of Schleswig-Holstein to some extent represented the principle of nationality, to
which France was friendly, and that of all wars in which France could engage a war
with Germany would be the least desirable. England accordingly, if it took up arms for
the Danes, would have been compelled to enter the war alone; and although at a later
time, when the war was over and the victors were about to divide the spoil, the British
and French fleets ostentatiously combined in manoeuvres at Cherbourg, this show of
union deceived no one, least of all the resolute and well-informed director of affairs at
Berlin. To force, and force alone, would Bismarck have yielded. Palmerston, now
sinking into old age, permitted Lord Russell to parody his own fierce language of
twenty years back; but all the world, except the Danes, knew that the fangs and the
claws were drawn, and that British foreign policy had become for the time a thing of
snarls and grimaces.
Peace with Denmark was scarcely concluded when, at the bidding of Prussia,
reluctantly supported by Austria, the Saxon and Hanoverian troops which had entered
Holstein as the mandatories of the Federal Diet were compelled to leave the country. A
Provisional Government was established under the direction of an Austrian and a
Prussian Commissioner. Bismarck had met the Prince of Augustenburg at Berlin some
months before, and had formed an unfavourable opinion of the policy likely to be
adopted by him towards Prussia. All Germany, however, was in favour of the Prince's
claims, and at the Conference of London these claims had been supported by the
Prussian envoy himself. In order to give some appearance of formal legality to his own
action, Bismarck had to obtain from the Crown-jurists of Prussia a decision that King
Christian IX. had, contrary to the general opinion of Germany, been the lawful
inheritor of Schleswig-Holstein, and that the Prince of Augustenburg had therefore no
rights whatever in the Duchies. As the claims of Christian had been transferred by the
Treaty of Vienna to the sovereigns of Austria and Prussia jointly, it rested with them to
decide who should be Duke of Schleswig-Holstein, and under what conditions.
Bismarck announced at Vienna on the 22nd of February, 1865, the terms on which he
was willing that Schleswig-Holstein should be conferred by the two sovereigns upon
Frederick of Augustenburg. He required, in addition to community of finance, postal
system, and railways, that Prussian law, including the obligation to military service,
should be introduced into the Duchies; that their regiments should take the oath of
fidelity to the King of Prussia, and that their principal military positions should be held
by Prussian troops. These conditions would have made Schleswig-Holstein in all but
name a part of the Prussian State: they were rejected both by the Court of Vienna and
by Prince Frederick himself, and the population of Schleswig-Holstein almost
unanimously declared against them. Both Austria and the Federal Diet now supported
the Schleswig-Holsteiners in what appeared to be a struggle on behalf of their
independence against Prussian domination; and when the Prussian Commissioner in
Schleswig-Holstein expelled the most prominent of the adherents of Augustenburg, his
Austrian colleague published a protest declaring the act to be one of lawless violence. It
seemed that the outbreak of war between the two rival Powers could not long be
delayed; but Bismarck had on this occasion moved too rapidly for his master, and
considerations relating to the other European Powers made it advisable to postpone the
rupture for some months. An agreement was patched up at Gastein by which, pending
an ultimate settlement, the government of the two provinces was divided between their
masters, Austria taking the administration of Holstein, Prussia that of Schleswig, while
The natural ally of Prussia was Italy; but without the sanction of Napoleon III. it would
have been difficult to engage Italy in a new war. Bismarck had therefore to gain at least
the passive concurrence of the French Emperor in the union of Italy and Prussia against
Austria. He visited Napoleon at Biarritz in September, 1865, and returned with the
object of his journey achieved. The negotiation of Biarritz, if truthfully recorded, would
probably give the key to much of the European history of the next five years. As at
Plombières, the French Emperor acted without his Ministers, and what he asked he
asked without a witness. That Bismarck actually promised to Napoleon III. either
Belgium or any part of the Rhenish Provinces in case of the aggrandisement of Prussia
has been denied by him, and is not in itself probable. But there are understandings
which prove to be understandings on one side only; politeness may be misinterpreted;
and the world would have found Count Bismarck unendurable if at every friendly
meeting he had been guilty of the frankness with which he informed the Austrian
Government that its centre of action must be transferred from Vienna to Pesth. That
Napoleon was now scheming for an extension of France on the north-east is certain;
that Bismarck treated such rectification of the frontier as a matter for arrangement is
hardly to be doubted; and if without a distinct and written agreement Napoleon was
content to base his action on the belief that Bismarck would not withhold from him his
reward, this only proved how great was the disparity between the aims which the
French ruler allowed himself to cherish and his mastery of the arts by which alone such
aims were to be realised. Napoleon desired to see Italy placed in possession of Venice;
he probably believed at this time that Austria would be no unequal match for Prussia
and Italy together, and that the natural result of a well-balanced struggle would be not
only The completion of Italian union but the purchase of French neutrality or mediation
by the cession of German territory west of the Rhine. It was no part of the duty of
Count Bismarck to chill Napoleon's fancies or to teach him political wisdom. The
Prussian statesman may have left Biarritz with the conviction that an attack on
Germany would sooner or later follow the disappointment of those hopes which he had
flattered and intended to mock; but for the present he had removed one dangerous
obstacle from his path, and the way lay free before him to an Italian alliance if Italy
itself should choose to combine with him in war.
[Italy, 1862-65.]
Since the death of Cavour the Italian Government had made no real progress towards
the attainment of the national aims, the acquisition of Rome and Venice. Garibaldi,
impatient of delay, had in 1862 landed again in Sicily and summoned his followers to
march with him upon Rome. But the enterprise was resolutely condemned by Victor
Emmanuel, and when Garibaldi crossed to the mainland he found the King's troops in
front of him at Aspromonte. There was an exchange of shots, and Garibaldi fell
wounded. He was treated with something of the distinction shown to a royal prisoner,
[La Marmora.]
Bismarck from the beginning of his Ministry appears to have looked forward to the
combination of Italy and Prussia against the common enemy; but his plans ripened
slowly. In the spring of 1865, when affairs seemed to be reaching a crisis in
Schleswig-Holstein, the first serious overtures were made by the Prussian ambassador
at Florence. La Marmora answered that any definite proposition would receive the
careful attention of the Italian Government, but that Italy would not permit itself to be
made a mere instrument in Prussia's hands for the intimidation of Austria. Such caution
was both natural and necessary on the part of the Italian Minister; and his reserve
seemed to be more than justified when, a few months later, the Treaty of Gastein
restored Austria and Prussia to relations of friendship. La Marmora might now well
consider himself released from all obligations towards the Court of Berlin: and,
entering on a new line of policy, he sent an envoy to Vienna to ascertain if the Emperor
would amicably cede Venetia to Italy in return for the payment of a very large sum of
money and the assumption by Italy of part of the Austrian national debt. Had this
transaction been effected, it would probably have changed the course of European
history; the Emperor, however, declined to bargain away any part of his dominions,
and so threw Italy once more into the camp of his great enemy. In the meantime the
disputes about Schleswig-Holstein broke out afresh. Bismarck renewed his efforts at
Florence in the spring of 1866, with the result that General Govone was sent to Berlin
in order to discuss with the Prussian Minister the political and military conditions of an
alliance. But instead of proposing immediate action, Bismarck stated to Govone that
the question of Schleswig-Holstein was insufficient to justify a great war in the eyes of
Europe, and that a better cause must be put forward, namely, the reform of the Federal
Eight months had now passed since the signature of the Convention of Gastem. The
experiment of an understanding with Austria, which King William had deemed
necessary, had been made, and it had failed; or rather, as Bismarck expressed himself
in a candid moment, it had succeeded, inasmuch as it had cured the King of his
scruples and raised him to the proper point of indignation against the Austrian Court.
The agents in effecting this happy result had been the Prince of Augustenburg, the
population of Holstein, and the Liberal party throughout Germany at large. In
Schleswig, which the Convention of Gastein had handed over to Prussia, General
Manteuffel, a son of the Minister of 1850, had summarily put a stop to every
expression of public opinion, and had threatened to imprison the Prince if he came
within his reach; in Holstein the Austrian Government had permitted, if it had not
encouraged, the inhabitants to agitate in favour of the Pretender, and had allowed a
mass-meeting to be held at Altona on the 23rd of January, where cheers were raised for
Augustenburg, and the summoning of the Estates of Schleswig-Holstein was
demanded. This was enough to enable Bismarck to denounce the conduct of Austria as
an alliance with revolution. He demanded explanations from the Government of
Vienna, and the Emperor declined to render an account of his actions. Warlike
preparations now began, and on the 16th of March the Austrian Government
announced that it should refer the affairs of Schleswig-Holstein to the Federal Diet.
This was a clear departure from the terms of the Convention of Gastein, and from the
agreement made between Austria and Prussia before entering into the Danish war in
1864 that the Schleswig-Holstein question should be settled by the two Powers
independently of the German Federation. King William was deeply moved by such a
breach of good faith; tears filled his eyes when he spoke of the conduct of the Austrian
Emperor; and though pacific influences were still active around him he now began to
fall in more cordially with the warlike policy of his Minister. The question at issue
between Prussia and Austria expanded from the mere disposal of the Duchies to the
reconstitution of the Federal system of Germany. In a note laid before the Governments
of all the Minor States Bismarck declared that the time had come when Germany must
receive a new and more effective organisation, and inquired how far Prussia could
count on the support of allies if it should be attacked by Austria or forced into war. It
was immediately after this re-opening of the whole problem of Federal reform in
Germany that the draft of the Treaty with Italy was brought to its final shape by
Bismarck and the Italian envoy, and sent to the Ministry at Florence for its approval.
Bismarck had now to make the best use of the three months' delay that was granted to
him. On the day after the acceptance of the Treaty by the Italian Government, the
Prussian representative at the Diet of Frankfort handed in a proposal for the
summoning of a German Parliament, to be elected by universal suffrage. Coming from
the Minister who had made Parliamentary government a mockery in Prussia, this
proposal was scarcely considered as serious. Bavaria, as the chief of the secondary
States, had already expressed its willingness to enter upon the discussion of Federal
reform, but it asked that the two leading Powers should in the meantime undertake not
to attack one another. Austria at once acceded to this request, and so forced Bismarck
into giving a similar assurance. Promises of disarmament were then exchanged; but as
Austria declined to stay the collection of its forces in Venetia against Italy, Bismarck
was able to charge his adversary with insincerity in the negotiation, and preparations
for war were resumed on both sides. Other difficulties, however, now came into view.
The Treaty between Prussia and Italy had been made known to the Court of Vienna by
Napoleon, whose advice La Marmora had sought before its conclusion, and the
Austrian Emperor had thus become aware of his danger. He now determined to
sacrifice Venetia if Italy's neutrality could be so secured. On the 5th of May the Italian
ambassador at Paris, Count Nigra, was informed by Napoleon that Austria had offered
to cede Venetia to him on behalf of Victor Emmanuel if France and Italy would not
prevent Austria from indemnifying itself at Prussia's expense in Silesia. Without a war,
at the price of mere inaction, Italy was offered all that it could gain by a struggle which
was likely to be a desperate one, and which might end in disaster. La Marmora was in
sore perplexity. Though he had formed a juster estimate of the capacity of the Prussian
army than any other statesman or soldier in Europe, he was thoroughly suspicious of
the intentions of the Prussian Government; and in sanctioning the alliance of the
previous month he had done so half expecting that Bismarck would through the
prestige of this alliance gain for Prussia its own objects without entering into war, and
then leave Italy to reckon with Austria as best it might. He would gladly have
abandoned the alliance and have accepted Austria's offer if Italy could have done this
without disgrace. But the sense of honour was sufficiently strong to carry him past this
temptation. He declined the offer made through Paris, and continued the armaments of
Italy, though still with a secret hope that European diplomacy might find the means of
realising the purpose of his country without war. [521]
The neutral Powers were now, with various objects, bestirring themselves in favour of
a European Congress. Napoleon believed the time to be come when the Treaties of
1815 might be finally obliterated by the joint act of Europe. He was himself ready to
join Prussia with three hundred thousand men if the King would transfer the Rhenish
[German Opinion.]
The goal of Bismarck's desire, the end which he had steadily set before himself since
entering upon his Ministry, was attained; and, if his calculations as to the strength of
the Prussian army were not at fault, Austria was at length to be expelled from the
German Federation by force of arms. But the process by which Bismarck had worked
up to this result had ranged against him the almost unanimous opinion of Germany
outside the military circles of Prussia itself. His final demand for the summoning of a
German Parliament was taken as mere comedy. The guiding star of his policy had
hitherto been the dynastic interest of the House of Hohenzollern; and now, when the
Germans were to be plunged into war with one another, it seemed as if the real object
of the struggle was no more than the annexation of the Danish Duchies and some other
coveted territory to the Prussian Kingdom. The voice of protest and condemnation rose
[Napoleon III.]
A few days before the outbreak of hostilities the Emperor Napoleon gave publicity to
his own view of the European situation. He attributed the coming war to three causes:
to the faulty geographical limits of the Prussian State, to the desire for a better Federal
system in Germany, and to the necessity felt by the Italian nation for securing its
independence. These needs would, he conceived, be met by a territorial rearrangement
in the north of Germany consolidating and augmenting the Prussian Kingdom; by the
creation of a more effective Federal union between the secondary German States; and
finally, by the incorporation of Venetia with Italy, Austria's position in Germany
remaining unimpaired. Only in the event of the map of Europe being altered to the
exclusive advantage of one Great Power would France require an extension of frontier.
Its interests lay in the preservation of the equilibrium of Europe, and in the
maintenance of the Italian Kingdom. These had already been secured by arrangements
which would not require France to draw the sword; a watchful but unselfish neutrality
was the policy which its Government had determined to pursue. Napoleon had in fact
lost all control over events, and all chance of gaining the Rhenish Provinces, from the
time when he permitted Italy to enter into the Prussian alliance without any stipulation
that France should at its option be admitted as a third member of the coalition. He
could not ally himself with Austria against his own creation, the Italian Kingdom; on
the other hand, he had no means of extorting cessions from Prussia when once Prussia
was sure of an ally who could bring two hundred thousand men into the field. His
diplomacy had been successful in so far as it had assured Venetia to Italy whether
Prussia should be victorious or overthrown, but as regarded France it had landed him in
absolute powerlessness. He was unable to act on one side; he was not wanted on the
other. Neutrality had become a matter not of choice but of necessity; and until the
course of military events should have produced some new situation in Europe, France
might well be watchful, but it could scarcely gain much credit for its disinterested part.
[523]
of the army of Silesia on Benedek's right, which was accompanied by the arrival of
Herwarth at the other end of the field of battle, at once decided the day. It was with
difficulty that the Austrian commander prevented the enemy from seizing the positions
which would have cut off his retreat. He retired eastwards across the Elbe with a loss of
eighteen thousand killed and wounded and twenty-four thousand prisoners. His army
was ruined; and ten days after the Prussians had crossed the frontier the war was
practically at an end. [524]
The disaster of Königgrätz was too great to be neutralised by the success of the
Austrian forces in Italy. La Marmora, who had given up his place at the head of the
Government in order to take command of the army, crossed the Mincio at the head of a
hundred and twenty thousand men, but was defeated by inferior numbers on the fatal
ground of Custozza, and compelled to fall back on the Oglio. This gleam of success,
which was followed by a naval victory at Lissa off the Istrian coast, made it easier for
the Austrian Emperor to face the sacrifices that were now inevitable. Immediately after
the battle of Königgrätz he invoked the mediation of Napoleon III., and ceded Venetia
to him on behalf of Italy. Napoleon at once tendered his good offices to the
belligerents, and proposed an armistice. His mediation was accepted in principle by the
King or Prussia, who expressed his willingness also to grant an armistice as soon as
preliminaries of peace were recognised by the Austrian Court. In the meantime, while
negotiations passed between all four Governments, the Prussians pushed forward until
their outposts came within sight of Vienna. If in pursuance of General Moltke's plan the
Italian generals had thrown a corps north-eastwards from the head of the Adriatic, and
so struck at the very heart of the Austrian monarchy, it is possible that the victors of
Königgrätz might have imposed their own terms without regard to Napoleon's
mediation, and, while adding the Italian Tyrol to Victor Emmanuel's dominions, have
completed the union of Germany under the House of Hohenzollern at one stroke. But
with Hungary still intact, and the Italian army paralysed by the dissensions of its
commanders, prudence bade the great statesman of Berlin content himself with the
advantages which he could reap without prolongation of the war, and without the risk
of throwing Napoleon into the enemy's camp. He had at first required, as conditions of
peace, that Prussia should be left free to annex Saxony, Hanover, Hesse-Cassel, and
other North German territory; that Austria should wholly withdraw from German
affairs; and that all Germany, less the Austrian Provinces, should be united in a
Federation under Prussian leadership. To gain the assent of Napoleon to these terms,
Bismarck hinted that France might by accord with Prussia annex Belgium. Napoleon,
however, refused to agree to the extension of Prussia's ascendency over all Germany,
and presented a counter-project which was in its turn rejected by Bismarck. It was
finally settled that Prussia should not be prevented from annexing Hanover, Nassau,
and Hesse-Cassel, as conquered territory that lay between its own Rhenish Provinces
and the rest of the kingdom; that Austria should completely withdraw from German
affairs; that Germany north of the Main, together with Saxony, should be included in a
Federation under Prussian leadership; and that for the States south of the Main there
Bavaria and the south-western allies of Austria, though their military action was of an
ineffective character, continued in arms for some weeks after the battle of Königgrätz
and the suspension of hostilities arranged at Nicolsburg did not come into operation on
their behalf till the 2nd of August. Before that date their forces were dispersed and their
power of resistance broken by the Prussian generals Falckenstein and Manteuffel in a
series of unimportant engagements and intricate manoeuvres. The City of Frankfort,
against which Bismarck seems to have borne some personal hatred, was treated for a
while by the conquerors with extraordinary and most impolitic harshness; in other
respects the action of the Prussian Government towards these conquered States was not
such as to render future union and friendship difficult. All the South German
Governments, with the single exception of Baden, appealed to the Emperor Napoleon
for assistance in the negotiations which they had opened at Berlin. But at the very
moment when this request was made and granted Napoleon was himself demanding
from Bismarck the cession of the Bavarian Palatinate and of the Hessian districts west
of the Rhine. Bismarck had only to acquaint the King of Bavaria and the South German
Ministers with the designs of their French protector in order to reconcile them to his
own chastening, but not unfriendly, hand. The grandeur of a united Fatherland flashed
upon minds hitherto impenetrable by any national ideal when it became known that
Napoleon was bargaining for Oppenheim and Kaiserslautern. Not only were the
insignificant questions as to the war-indemnities to be paid to Prussia and the frontier
villages to be exchanged promptly settled, but by a series of secret Treaties all the
South German States entered into an offensive and defensive alliance with the Prussian
King, and engaged in case of war to place their entire forces at his disposal and under
his command. The diplomacy of Napoleon III. had in the end effected for Bismarck
almost more than his earlier intervention had frustrated, for it had made the South
German Courts the allies of Prussia not through conquest or mere compulsion but out
of regard for their own interests. [526] It was said by the opponents of the Imperial
Prior to the battle of Königgrätz, it would seem that all the suggestions of the French
Emperor relating to the acquisition of Belgium were made to the Prussian Government
through secret agents, and that they were actually unknown, or known by mere hearsay,
to Benedetti, the French Ambassador at Berlin. According to Prince Bismarck, these
overtures had begun as early as 1862, when he was himself Ambassador at Paris, and
were then made verbally and in private notes to himself; they were the secret of
Napoleon's neutrality during the Danish war; and were renewed through relatives and
confidential agents of the Emperor when the struggle with Austria was seen to be
approaching. The ignorance in which Count Benedetti was kept of his master's private
diplomacy may to some extent explain the extraordinary contradictions between the
accounts given by this Minister and by Prince Bismarck of the negotiations that passed
between them in the period following the campaign of 1866, after Benedetti had
himself been charged to present the demands of the French Government. In June, while
the Ambassador was still, as it would seem, in ignorance of what was passing behind
his back, he had informed the French Ministry that Bismarck, anxious for the
preservation of French neutrality, had hinted at the compensations that might be made
to France if Prussia should meet with great success in the coming war. According to the
report of the Ambassador, made at the time, Count Bismarck stated that he would
rather withdraw from public life than cede the Rhenish Provinces with Cologne and
Bonn, but that he believed it would be possible to gain the King's ultimate consent to
the cession of the Prussian district of Trèves on the Upper Moselle, which district,
together with Luxemburg or parts of Belgium and Switzerland, would give France an
adequate improvement of its frontier. The Ambassador added in his report, by way of
comment, that Count Bismarck was the only man in the kingdom who was disposed to
make any cession of Prussian territory whatever, and that a unanimous and violent
revulsion against France would be excited by the slightest indication of any intention
on the part of the French Government to extend its frontiers towards the Rhine. He
concluded his report with the statement that, after hearing Count Bismarck's
suggestions, he had brought the discussion to a summary close, not wishing to leave the
Prussian Minister under the impression that any scheme involving the seizure of
Belgian or Swiss territory had the slightest chance of being seriously considered at
Paris. (June 4-8.)
Benedetti probably wrote these last words in full sincerity. Seven weeks later, after the
settlement of the Preliminaries at Nicolsburg, he was ordered to demand the cession of
the Bavarian Palatinate, of the portion of Hesse-Darmstadt west of the Rhine, including
Mainz, and of the strip of Prussian territory on the Saar which had been left to France
in 1814 but taken from it in 1815. According to the statement of Prince Bismarck,
which would seem to be exaggerated, this demand was made by Benedetti as an
ultimatum and with direct threats of war, which were answered by Bismarck in
The war of 1866 had been brought to an end with extraordinary rapidity; its results
were solid and imposing. Venice, perplexed no longer by its Republican traditions or
by doubts of the patriotism of the House of Savoy, prepared to welcome King Victor
Emmanuel; Bismarck, returning from the battle-field of Königgrätz, found his earlier
unpopularity forgotten in the flood of national enthusiasm which his achievements and
those of the army had evoked. A new epoch had begun; the antagonisms of the past
were out of date; nobler work now stood before the Prussian people and its rulers than
the perpetuation of a barren struggle between Crown and Parliament. By none was the
severance from the past more openly expressed than by Bismarck himself; by none was
it more bitterly felt than by the old Conservative party in Prussia, who had hitherto
regarded the Minister as their own representative. In drawing up the Constitution of the
North German Federation, Bismarck remained true to the principle which he had laid
down at Frankfort before the war, that the German people must be represented by a
Parliament elected directly by the people themselves. In the incorporation of Hanover,
Hesse-Cassel and the Danish Duchies with Prussia, he saw that it would be impossible
to win the new populations to a loyal union with Prussia if the King's Government
continued to recognise no friends but the landed aristocracy and the army. He frankly
declared that the action of the Cabinet in raising taxes without the consent of
Parliament had been illegal, and asked for an Act of Indemnity. The Parliament of
Berlin understood and welcomed the message of reconciliation. It heartily forgave the
past, and on its own initiative added the name of Bismarck to those for whose services
to the State the King asked a recompense. The Progressist party, which had constituted
To Austria the battle of Königgrätz brought a settlement of the conflict between the
Crown and Hungary. The Constitution of February, 1861, hopefully as it had worked
during its first years, had in the end fallen before the steady refusal of the Magyars to
recognise the authority of a single Parliament for the whole Monarchy. Within the
Reichsrath itself the example of Hungary told as a disintegrating force; the Poles, the
Czechs seceded from the Assembly; the Minister, Schmerling, lost his authority, and
was forced to resign in the summer of 1865. Soon afterwards an edict of the Emperor
suspended the Constitution. Count Belcredi, who took office in Schmerling's place,
attempted to arrive at an understanding with the Magyar leaders. The Hungarian Diet
was convoked, and was opened by the King in person before the end of the year.
Francis Joseph announced his abandonment of the principle that Hungary had forfeited
its ancient rights by rebellion, and asked in return that the Diet should not insist upon
regarding the laws of 1848 as still in force. Whatever might be the formal validity of
those laws, it was, he urged, impossible that they should be brought into operation
unaltered. For the common affairs of the two halves of the Monarchy there must be
some common authority. It rested with the Diet to arrive at the necessary understanding
with the Sovereign on this point, and to place on a satisfactory footing the relations of
Hungary to Transylvania and Croatia. As soon as an accord should have been reached
on these subjects, Francis Joseph stated that he would complete his reconciliation with
the Magyars by being crowned King of Hungary.
[Deák.]
In the Assembly to which these words were addressed the majority was composed of
men of moderate opinions, under the leadership of Francis Deák. Deák had drawn up
the programme of the Hungarian Liberals in the election of 1847. He had at that time
appeared to be marked out by his rare political capacity and the simple manliness of his
character for a great, if not the greatest, part in the work that then lay before his
country. But the violence of revolutionary methods was alien to his temperament. After
serving in Batthyány's Ministry, he withdrew from public life on the outbreak of war
with Austria, and remained in retirement during the dictatorship of Kossuth and the
struggle of 1849. As a loyal friend to the Hapsburg dynasty, and a clear-sighted judge
of the possibilities of the time, he stood apart while Kossuth dethroned the Sovereign
and proclaimed Hungarian independence. Of the patriotism and the disinterestedness of
Deák there was never the shadow of a doubt; a distinct political faith severed him from
the leaders whose enterprise ended in the catastrophe which he had foreseen, and
preserved for Hungary one statesman who could, without renouncing his own past and
Under his influence a committee was appointed to frame the necessary basis of
negotiation. On the 25th of June, 1866, the Committee gave in its report. It declared
against any Parliamentary union with the Cis-Leithan half of the Monarchy, but
consented to the establishment of common Ministries for War, Finance, and Foreign
Affairs, and recommended that the Budget necessary for these joint Ministries should
be settled by Delegations from the Hungarian Diet and from the western Reichsrath.
[528] The Delegations, it was proposed, should meet separately, and communicate their
views to one another by writing. Only when agreement should not have been thus
attained were the Delegations to unite in a single body, in which case the decision was
to rest with an absolute majority of votes.
[Federalism or Dualism.]
[Settlement by Beust.]
The debates of the Diet on the proposals of King Francis Joseph had been long and
anxious; it was not until the moment when the war with Prussia was breaking out that
the Committee presented its report. The Diet was now prorogued, but immediately after
the battle of Königgrätz the Hungarian leaders were called to Vienna, and negotiations
were pushed forward on the lines laid down by the Committee. It was a matter of no
small moment to the Court of Vienna that while bodies of Hungarian exiles had been
preparing to attack the Empire both from the side of Silesia and of Venice, Deák and
his friends had loyally abstained from any communication with the foreign enemies of
the House of Hapsburg. That Hungary would now gain almost complete independence
was certain; the question was not so much whether there should be an independent
Parliament and Ministry at Pesth as whether there should not be a similarly
independent Parliament and Ministry in each of the territories of the Crown, the
Austrian Sovereign becoming the head of a Federation instead of the chief of a single
or a dual State. Count Belcredi, the Minister at Vienna, was disposed towards such a
Federal system; he was, however, now confronted within the Cabinet by a rival who
represented a different policy. After making peace with Prussia, the Emperor called to
the Ministry of Foreign Affairs Count Beust, who had hitherto been at the head of the
Saxon Government, and who had been the representative of the German Federation at
The victory of the Magyars was indeed but too complete. Not only were Beust and the
representatives of the western half of the Monarchy so overmatched by the Hungarian
negotiators that in the distribution of the financial burdens of the Empire Hungary
escaped with far too small a share, but in the more important problem of the relation of
the Slavic and Roumanian populations of the Hungarian Kingdom to the dominant race
no adequate steps were taken for the protection of these subject nationalities. That
Croatia and Transylvania should be reunited with Hungary if the Emperor and the
Magyars were ever to be reconciled was inevitable; and in the case of Croatia certain
conditions were no doubt imposed, and certain local rights guaranteed. But on the
whole the non-Magyar peoples in Hungary were handed over to the discretion of the
ruling race. The demand of Bismarck that the centre of gravity of the Austrian States
should be transferred from Vienna to Pesth had indeed been brought to pass. While in
the western half of the Monarchy the central authority, still represented by a single
Parliament, seemed in the succeeding years to be altogether losing its cohesive power,
and the political life of Austria became a series of distracting complications, in
Hungary the Magyar Government resolutely set itself to the task of moulding into one
the nationalities over which it ruled. Uniting the characteristic faults with the great
qualities of a race marked out by Nature and ancient habit for domination over more
numerous but less aggressive neighbours, the Magyars have steadily sought to the best
of their power to obliterate the distinctions which make Hungary in reality not one but
several nations. They have held the Slavic and the Roumanian population within their
CHAPTER XXIV.
[Napoleon III.]
The reputation of Napoleon III. was perhaps at its height at the end of the first ten years
of his reign. His victories over Russia and Austria had flattered the military pride of
France; the flowing tide of commercial prosperity bore witness, as it seemed, to the
blessings of a government at once firm and enlightened; the reconstruction of Paris
dazzled a generation accustomed to the mean and dingy aspect of London and other
capitals before 1850, and scarcely conscious of the presence or absence of real beauty
and dignity where it saw spaciousness and brilliance. The political faults of Napoleon,
the shiftiness and incoherence of his designs, his want of grasp on reality, his absolute
personal nullity as an administrator, were known to some few, but they had not been
displayed to the world at large. He had done some great things, he had conspicuously
There were in Napoleon III., as a man of State, two personalities, two mental
existences, which blended but ill with one another. There was the contemplator of great
human forces, the intelligent, if not deeply penetrative, reader of the signs of the times,
the brooder through long years of imprisonment and exile, the child of Europe, to
whom Germany, Italy, and England had all in turn been nearer than his own country;
and there was the crowned adventurer, bound by his name and position to gain for
France something that it did not possess, and to regard the greatness of every other
nation as an impediment to the ascendency of his own. Napoleon correctly judged the
principle of nationality to be the dominant force in the immediate future of Europe. He
saw in Italy and in Germany races whose internal divisions alone had prevented them
from being the formidable rivals of France, and yet he assisted the one nation to effect
its union, and was not indisposed, within certain limits, to promote the consolidation of
the other. That the acquisition of Nice and Savoy, and even of the Rhenish Provinces,
could not in itself make up to France for the establishment of two great nations on its
immediate frontiers Napoleon must have well understood: he sought to carry the
principle of agglomeration a stage farther in the interests of France itself, and to form
some moral, if not political, union of the Latin nations, which should embrace under his
own ascendency communities beyond the Atlantic as well as those of the Old World. It
was with this design that in the year 1862 he made the financial misdemeanours of
Mexico the pretext for an expedition to that country, the object of which was to subvert
the native Republican Government, and to place the Hapsburg Maximilian, as a vassal
prince, on its throne. England and Spain had at first agreed to unite with France in
enforcing the claims of the European creditors of Mexico; but as soon as Napoleon had
made public his real intentions these Powers withdrew their forces, and the Emperor
was left free to carry out his plans alone.
The design of Napoleon to establish French influence in Mexico was connected with
his attempt to break up the United States by establishing the independence of the
Southern Confederacy, then in rebellion, through the mediation of the Great Powers of
Europe. So long as the Civil War in the United States lasted, it seemed likely that
Napoleon's enterprise in Mexico would be successful. Maximilian was placed upon the
Thus ended the attempt of Napoleon III. to establish the influence of France and of his
dynasty beyond the seas. The doom of Maximilian excited the compassion of Europe; a
deep, irreparable wound was inflicted on the reputation of the man who had tempted
him to his treacherous throne, who had guaranteed him protection, and at the bidding of
a superior power had abandoned him to his ruin. From this time, though the outward
splendour of the Empire was undiminished, there remained scarcely anything of the
personal prestige which Napoleon had once enjoyed in so rich a measure. He was no
longer in the eyes of Europe or of his own country the profound, self-contained
statesman in whose brain lay the secret of coming events; he was rather the gambler
whom fortune was preparing to desert, the usurper trembling for the future of his
dynasty and his crown. Premature old age and a harassing bodily ailment began to
incapacitate him for personal exertion. He sought to loosen the reins in which his
despotism held France, and to make a compromise with public opinion which was now
declaring against him. And although his own cooler judgment set little store by any
addition of frontier strips of alien territory to France, and he would probably have been
best pleased to pass the remainder of his reign in undisturbed inaction, he deemed it
necessary, after failure in Mexico had become inevitable, to seek some satisfaction in
Europe for the injured pride of his country. He entered into negotiations with the King
of Holland for the cession of Luxemburg, and had gained his assent, when rumours of
the transaction reached the North German Press, and the project passed from out the
control of diplomatists and became an affair of rival nations.
Of the politicians of France, those who even affected to regard the aggrandisement of
Prussia and the union of Northern Germany with indifference or satisfaction were a
small minority. Among these was the Emperor, who, after his attempts to gain a
Rhenish Province had been baffled, sought to prove in an elaborate State-paper that
France had won more than it had lost by the extinction of the German Federation as
established in 1815, and by the dissolution of the tie that had bound Austria and Prussia
together as members of this body. The events of 1866 had, he contended, broken up a
system devised in evil days for the purpose of uniting Central Europe against France,
and had restored to the Continent the freedom of alliances; in other words, they had
made it possible for the South German States to connect themselves with France. If this
illusion was really entertained by the Emperor, it was rudely dispelled by the discovery
of the Treaties between Prussia and the Southern States and by their publication in the
spring of 1867. But this revelation was not necessary to determine the attitude of the
great majority of those who passed for the representatives of independent political
There appears to be no evidence that Napoleon III. himself desired to attack Prussia so
long as that Power should strictly observe the stipulations of the Treaty of Prague
which provided for the independence of the South German States. But the current of
events irresistibly impelled Germany to unity. The very Treaty which made the river
Main the limit of the North German Confederacy reserved for the Southern States the
right of attaching themselves to those of the North by some kind of national tie. Unless
the French Emperor was resolved to acquiesce in the gradual development of this
federal unity until, as regarded the foreigner, the North and the South of Germany
should be a single body, he could have no confident hope of lasting peace. To have
thus anticipated and accepted the future, to have removed once and for all the sleepless
fears of Prussia by the frank recognition of its right to give all Germany effective
Union, would have been an act too great and too wise in reality, too weak and
self-renouncing in appearance, for any chief of a rival nation. Napoleon did not take
this course; on the other hand, not desiring to attack Prussia while it remained within
the limits of the Treaty of Prague, he refrained from seeking alliances with the object of
immediate and aggressive action. The diplomacy of the Emperor during the period
from 1866 to 1870 is indeed still but imperfectly known; but it would appear that his
efforts were directed only to the formation of alliances with the view of eventual action
when Prussia should have passed the limits which the Emperor himself or public
opinion in Paris should, as interpreter of the Treaty of Prague, impose upon this Power
in its dealings with the South German States.
The Governments to which Napoleon could look for some degree of support were those
of Austria and Italy. Count Beust, now Chancellor of the Austrian Monarchy, was a
bitter enemy to Prussia, and a rash and adventurous politician, to whom the very
circumstance of his sudden elevation from the petty sphere of Saxon politics gave a
certain levity and unconstraint in the handling of great affairs. He cherished the idea of
recovering Austria's ascendency in Germany, and was disposed to repel the extension
of Russian influence westwards by boldly encouraging the Poles to seek for the
satisfaction of their national hopes in Galicia under the Hapsburg Crown. To Count
Beust France was the most natural of all allies. On the other hand, the very system
which Beust had helped to establish in Hungary raised serious obstacles against the
The alliance of 1866 between Prussia and Italy had left behind it in each of these States
more of rancour than of good-will. La Marmora had from the beginning to the end been
unfortunate in his relations with Berlin. He had entered into the alliance with suspicion;
he would gladly have seen Venetia given to Italy by a European Congress without war;
and when hostilities broke out, he had disregarded and resented what he considered an
attempt of the Prussian Government to dictate to him the military measures to be
pursued. On the other hand, the Prussians charged the Italian Government with having
deliberately held back its troops after the battle of Custozza in pursuance of
arrangements made between Napoleon and the Austrian Emperor on the voluntary
cession of Venice, and with having endangered or minimised Prussia's success by
enabling the Austrians to throw a great part of their Italian forces northwards. There
was nothing of that comradeship between the Italian and the Prussian armies which is
acquired on the field of battle. The personal sympathies of Victor Emmanuel were
strongly on the side of the French Emperor; and when, at the close of the year 1866, the
French garrison was withdrawn from Rome in pursuance of the convention made in
September, 1864, it seemed probable that France and Italy might soon unite in a close
alliance. But in the following year the attempts of the Garibaldians to overthrow the
Papal Government, now left without its foreign defenders, embroiled Napoleon and the
Italian people. Napoleon was unable to defy the clerical party in France; he adopted the
language of menace in his communications with the Italian Cabinet; and when, in the
autumn of 1867, the Garibaldians actually invaded the Roman States, he despatched a
body of French troops under General Failly to act in support of those of the Pope. An
encounter took place at Mentana on November 3rd, in which the Garibaldians, after
defeating the Papal forces, were put to the rout by General Failly. The occupation of
Civita Vecchia was renewed, and in the course of the debates raised at Paris on the
Italian policy of the Government, the Prime Minister, M. Rouher, stated, with the most
passionate emphasis that, come what might, Italy should never possess itself of Rome.
"Never," he cried, "will France tolerate such an outrage on its honour and its dignity."
[533]
The affair of Mentana, the insolent and heartless language in which General Failly
announced his success, the reoccupation of Roman territory by French troops, and the
declaration made by M. Rouher in the French Assembly, created wide and deep anger
in Italy, and made an end for the time of all possibility of a French alliance. Napoleon
was indeed, as regarded Italy, in an evil case. By abandoning Rome he would have
turned against himself and his dynasty the whole clerical interest in France, whose
confidence he had already to some extent forfeited by his policy in 1860; on the other
hand, it was vain for him to hope for the friendship of Italy whilst he continued to bar
the way to the fulfilment of the universal national desire. With the view of arriving at
some compromise he proposed a European Conference on the Roman question; but this
was resisted above all by Count Bismarck, whose interest it was to keep the sore open;
and neither England nor Russia showed any anxiety to help the Pope's protector out of
his difficulties. Napoleon sought by a correspondence with Victor Emmanuel during
1868 and 1869 to pave the way for a defensive alliance; but Victor Emmanuel was in
reality as well as in name a constitutional king, and probably could not, even if he had
desired, have committed Italy to engagements disapproved by the Ministry and
Parliament. It was made clear to Napoleon that the evacuation of the Papal States must
precede any treaty of alliance between France and Italy. Whether the Italian
Government would have been content with a return to the conditions of the September
Convention, or whether it made the actual possession of Rome the price of a
treaty-engagement, is uncertain; but inasmuch as Napoleon was not at present prepared
to evacuate Civita Vecchia, he could aim at nothing more than some eventual concert
when the existing difficulties should have been removed. The Court of Vienna now
became the intermediary between the two Powers who had united against it in 1859.
Count Beust was free from the associations which had made any approach to friendship
with the kingdom of Victor Emmanuel impossible for his predecessors. He entered into
negotiations at Florence, which resulted in the conclusion of an agreement between the
Austrian and the Italian Governments that they would act together and guarantee one
another's territories in the event of a war between France and Prussia. This agreement
was made with the assent of the Emperor Napoleon, and was understood to be
preparatory to an accord with France itself; but it was limited to a defensive character,
and it implied that any eventual concert with France must be arranged by the two
Powers in combination with one another. [534]
[Isolation of France.]
At the beginning of 1870 the Emperor Napoleon was therefore without any more
definite assurance of support in a war with Prussia than the promise of the Austrian
Sovereign that he would assist France if attacked by Prussia and Russia together, and
that he would treat the interests of France as his own. By withdrawing his protection
from Rome Napoleon had undoubtedly a fair chance of building up this shadowy and
remote engagement into a defensive alliance with both Austria and Italy. But perfect
clearness and resolution of purpose, as well as the steady avoidance of all quarrels on
mere incidents, were absolutely indispensable to the creation and the employment of
such a league against the Power which alone it could have in view; and Prussia had
now little reason to fear any such exercise of statesmanship on the part of Napoleon.
The solution of the Roman question, in other words the withdrawal of the French
garrison from Roman territory, could proceed only from some stronger stimulus than
the declining force of Napoleon's own intelligence and will could now supply. This
[Germany, 1867-1870.]
Meanwhile on the other side Count Bismarck advanced with what was most essential in
his relations with the States of Southern Germany-the completion of the Treaties of
Alliance by conventions assimilating the military systems of these States to that of
Prussia. A Customs-Parliament was established for the whole of Germany, which, it
was hoped, would be the precursor of a National Assembly uniting the North and the
South of the Main. But in spite of this military and commercial approximation, the
progress towards union was neither so rapid nor so smooth as the patriots of the North
could desire. There was much in the harshness and self-assertion of the Prussian
character that repelled the less disciplined communities of the South. Ultramontanism
was strong in Bavaria; and throughout the minor States the most advanced of the
Liberals were opposed to a closer union with Berlin, from dislike of its absolutist
traditions and the heavy hand of its Government. Thus the tendency known as
Particularism was supported in Bavaria and Würtemberg by classes of the population
who in most respects were in antagonism to one another; nor could the memories of the
campaign of 1866 and the old regard for Austria be obliterated in a day. Bismarck did
not unduly press on the work of consolidation. He marked and estimated the force of
the obstacles which too rapid a development of his national policy would encounter. It
is possible that he may even have seen indications that religious and other influences
might imperil the military union which he had already established, and that he may not
have been unwilling to call to his aid, as the surest of all preparatives for national
union, the event which he had long believed to be inevitable at some time or other in
the future, a war with France.
Since the autumn of 1868 the throne of Spain had been vacant in consequence of a
revolution in which General Prim had been the leading actor. It was not easy to
discover a successor for the Bourbon Isabella; and after other candidatures had been
vainly projected it occurred to Prim and his friends early in 1869 that a suitable
candidate might be found in Prince Leopold of Hohenzollern-Sigmaringen, whose elder
brother had been made Prince of Roumania, and whose father, Prince Antony, had been
Prime Minister of Prussia in 1859. The House of Hohenzollern-Sigmaringen was so
distantly related to the reigning family of Prussia that the name alone preserved the
memory of the connection; and in actual blood-relationship Prince Leopold was much
more nearly allied to the French Houses of Murat and Beauharnais. But the
Sigmaringen family was distinctly Prussian by interest and association, and its chief,
Antony, had not only been at the head of the Prussian Administration himself, but had,
it is said, been the first to suggest the appointment of Bismarck to the same office. The
candidature of a Hohenzollern might reasonably be viewed in France as an attempt to
connect Prussia politically with Spain; and with so much reserve was this candidature
at the first handled at Berlin that, in answer to inquiries made by Benedetti in the spring
of 1869, the Secretary of State who represented Count Bismarck stated on his word of
honour that the candidature had never been suggested. The affair was from first to last
ostensibly treated at Berlin as one with which the Prussian Government was wholly
unconcerned, and in which King William was interested only as head of the family to
which Prince Leopold belonged. For twelve months after Benedetti's inquiries it
appeared as if the project had been entirely abandoned; it was, however, revived in the
spring of 1870, and on the 3rd of July the announcement was made at Paris that Prince
Leopold had consented to accept the Crown of Spain if the Cortes should confirm his
election.
At once there broke out in the French Press a storm of indignation against Prussia. The
organs of the Government took the lead in exciting public opinion. On the 6th of July
the Duke of Gramont, Foreign Minister, declared to the Legislative Body that the
attempt of a Foreign Power to place one of its Princes on the throne of Charles V.
imperilled the interests and the honour of France, and that, if such a contingency were
realised, the Government would fulfil its duty without hesitation and without weakness.
The violent and unsparing language of this declaration, which had been drawn up at a
Council of Ministers under the Emperor's presidency, proved that the Cabinet had
determined either to humiliate Prussia or to take vengeance by arms. It was at once
seen by foreign diplomatists, who during the preceding days had been disposed to
assist in removing a reasonable subject of complaint, how little was the chance of any
peaceable settlement after such a public challenge had been issued to Prussia in the
Emperor's name. One means of averting war alone seemed possible, the voluntary
renunciation by Prince Leopold of the offered Crown. To obtain this renunciation
became the task of those who, unlike the French Minister of Foreign Affairs, were
anxious to preserve peace.
[Ollivier's Ministry.]
The parts that were played at this crisis by the individuals who most influenced the
Emperor Napoleon are still but imperfectly known; but there is no doubt that from the
beginning to the end the Duke of Gramont, with short intermissions, pressed with
insane ardour for war. The Ministry now in office had been called to their places in
January, 1870, after the Emperor had made certain changes in the constitution in a
Liberal direction, and had professed to transfer the responsibility of power from
himself to a body of advisers possessing the confidence of the Chamber. Ollivier,
formerly one of the leaders of the Opposition, had accepted the Presidency of the
Cabinet. His colleagues were for the most part men new to official life, and little able
to hold their own against such representatives of unreformed Imperialism as the Duke
of Gramont and the War-Minister Leboeuf who sat beside them. Ollivier himself was
one of the few politicians in France who understood that his countrymen must be
content to see German unity established whether they liked it or not. He was entirely
averse from war with Prussia on the question which had now arisen; but the fear that
public opinion would sweep away a Liberal Ministry which hesitated to go all lengths
in patriotic extravagance led him to sacrifice his own better judgment, and to accept the
responsibility for a policy which in his heart he disapproved. Gramont's rash hand was
given free play. Instructions were sent to Benedetti to seek the King of Prussia at Ems,
where he was taking the waters, and to demand from him, as the only means of
averting war, that he should order the Hohenzollern Prince to revoke his acceptance of
the Crown. "We are in great haste," Gramont added, "for we must gain the start in case
Benedetti's first interview with the King was on the 9th of July. He informed the King
of the emotion that had been caused in France by the candidature of the Hohenzollern
Prince; he dwelt on the value to both countries of the friendly relation between France
and Prussia; and, while studiously avoiding language that might wound or irritate the
King, he explained to him the requirements of the Government at Paris. The King had
learnt beforehand what would be the substance of Benedetti's communication. He had
probably been surprised and grieved at the serious consequences which Prince
Leopold's action had produced in France; and although he had determined not to submit
to dictation from Paris or to order Leopold to abandon his candidature, he had already,
as it seems, taken steps likely to render the preservation of peace more probable. At the
end of a conversation with the Ambassador, in which he asserted his complete
independence as head of the family of Hohenzollern, he informed Benedetti that he had
entered into communication with Leopold and his father, and that he expected shortly
to receive a despatch from Sigmaringen. Benedetti rightly judged that the King, while
positively refusing to meet Gramont's demands, was yet desirous of finding some
peaceable way out of the difficulty; and the report of this interview which he sent to
Paris was really a plea in favour of good sense and moderation. But Gramont was little
disposed to accept such counsels. "I tell you plainly," he wrote to Benedetti on the next
day, "public opinion is on fire, and will leave us behind it. We must begin; we wait
only for your despatch to call up the three hundred thousand men who are waiting the
summons. Write, telegraph, something definite. If the King will not counsel the Prince
of Hohenzollern to resign, well, it is immediate war, and in a few days we are on the
Rhine."
Nevertheless Benedetti's advice was not without its influence on the Emperor and his
Ministers. Napoleon, himself wavering from hour to hour, now inclined to the
peace-party, and during the 11th there was a pause in the military preparations that had
been begun. On the 12th the efforts of disinterested Governments, probably also the
suggestions of the King of Prussia himself, produced their effects. A telegram was
received at Madrid from Prince Antony stating that his son's candidature was
withdrawn. A few hours later Ollivier announced the news in the Legislative Chamber
at Paris, and exchanged congratulations with the friends of peace, who considered that
the matter was now at an end. But this pacific conclusion little suited either the
war-party or the Bonapartists of the old type, who grudged to a Constitutional Ministry
so substantial a diplomatic success. They at once declared that the retirement of Prince
Leopold was a secondary matter, and that the real question was what guarantees had
been received from Prussia against a renewal of the candidature. Gramont himself, in
an interview with the Prussian Ambassador, Baron Werther, sketched a letter which he
That the guarantee which the French Government had resolved to demand would not be
given was now perfectly certain; yet, with the candidature of Prince Leopold fairly
extinguished, it was still possible that the cooler heads at Paris might carry the day, and
that the Government would stop short of declaring war on a point on which the
unanimous judgment of the other Powers declared it to be in the wrong. But Count
Bismarck was determined not to let the French escape lightly from the quarrel. He had
to do with an enemy who by his own folly had come to the brink of an aggressive war,
and, far from facilitating his retreat, it was Bismarck's policy to lure him over the
precipice. Not many hours after the last message had passed between King William and
Benedetti, a telegram was officially published at Berlin, stating, in terms so brief as to
convey the impression of an actual insult, that the King had refused to see the French
Ambassador, and had informed him by an aide-de-camp that he had nothing more to
communicate to him. This telegram was sent to the representatives of Prussia at most of
the European Courts, and to its agents in every German capital. Narratives instantly
gained currency, and were not contradicted by the Prussian Government, that Benedetti
had forced himself upon the King on the promenade at Ems, and that in the presence of
a large company the King had turned his back upon the Ambassador. The publication
of the alleged telegram from Ems became known in Paris on the 14th. On that day the
Council of Ministers met three times. At the first meeting the advocates of peace were
still in the majority; in the afternoon, as the news from Berlin and the fictions
describing the insult offered to the French Ambassador spread abroad, the agitation in
Paris deepened, and the Council decided upon calling up the Reserves; yet the Emperor
himself seemed still disposed for peace. It was in the interval between the second and
the third meeting of the Council, between the hours of six and ten in the evening, that
In Germany this decision had been expected; yet it made a deep impression not only on
the German people but on Europe at large that, when the declaration of war was
submitted to the French Legislative Body in the form of a demand for supplies, no
single voice was raised to condemn the war for its criminality and injustice: the
arguments which were urged against it by M. Thiers and others were that the
Government had fixed upon a bad cause, and that the occasion was inopportune.
Whether the majority of the Assembly really desired war is even now matter of doubt.
But the clamour of a hundred madmen within its walls, the ravings of journalists and
incendiaries, who at such a time are to the true expression of public opinion what the
Spanish Inquisition was to the Christian religion, paralysed the will and the
understanding of less infatuated men. Ten votes alone were given in the Assembly
against the grant demanded for war; to Europe at large it went out that the crime and
the madness was that of France as a nation. Yet Ollivier and many of his colleagues up
to the last moment disapproved of the war, and consented to it only because they
believed that the nation would otherwise rush into hostilities under a reactionary
Ministry who would serve France worse than themselves. They found when it was too
late that the supposed national impulse, which they had thought irresistible, was but the
outcry of a noisy minority. The reports of their own officers informed them that in
sixteen alone out of the eighty-seven Departments of France was the war popular. In
the other seventy-one it was accepted either with hesitation or regret. [536]
[Austria preparing.]
How vast were the forces which the North German Confederation could bring into the
field was well known to Napoleon's Government. Benedetti had kept his employers
thoroughly informed of the progress of the North German military organisation; he had
warned them that the South German States would most certainly act with the North
against a foreign assailant; he had described with great accuracy and great penetration
the nature of the tie that existed between Berlin and St. Petersburg, a tie which was
close enough to secure for Prussia the goodwill, and in certain contingencies the armed
support, of Russia, while it was loose enough not to involve Prussia in any Muscovite
enterprise that would bring upon it the hostility of England and Austria. The utmost
force which the French military administration reckoned on placing in the field at the
beginning of the campaign was two hundred and fifty thousand men, to be raised at the
end of three weeks by about fifty thousand more. The Prussians, even without
reckoning on any assistance from Southern Germany, and after allowing for three
army-corps that might be needed to watch Austria and Denmark, could begin the
campaign with three hundred and thirty thousand. Army to army, the French thus stood
according to the reckoning of their own War Office outnumbered at the outset; but
Leboeuf, the War-Minister, imagined that the Foreign Office had made sure of
alliances, and that a great part of the Prussian Army would not be free to act on the
Negotiations were now pressed forward between Paris, Florence, and Vienna, for the
conclusion of a triple alliance. Of the course taken by these negotiations contradictory
accounts are given by the persons concerned in them. According to Prince Napoleon,
Victor Emmanuel demanded possession of Rome and this was refused to him by the
French Emperor, in consequence of which the project of alliance failed. According to
the Duke of Gramont, no more was demanded by Italy than the return to the conditions
of the September Convention; this was agreed to by the Emperor, and it was in
pursuance of this agreement that the Papal States were evacuated by their French
garrison on the 2nd of August. Throughout the last fortnight of July, after war had
actually been declared, there was, if the statement of Gramont is to be trusted, a
continuous interchange of notes, projects, and telegrams between the three
Governments. The difficulties raised by Italy and Austria were speedily removed, and
though some weeks were needed by these Powers for their military preparations,
Napoleon was definitely assured of their armed support in case of his preliminary
success. It was agreed that Austria and Italy, assuming at the first the position of armed
neutrality, should jointly present an ultimatum to Prussia in September demanding the
exact performance of the Treaty of Prague, and, failing its compliance with this
summons in the sense understood by its enemies, that the two Powers would
immediately declare war, their armies taking the field at latest on the 15th of
September. That Russia would in that case assist Prussia was well known; but it would
seem that Count Beust feared little from his northern enemy in an autumn campaign.
The draft of the Treaty between Italy and Austria had actually, according to Gramont's
statement, been accepted by the two latter Powers, and received its last amendments in
a negotiation between the Emperor Napoleon and an Italian envoy, Count Vimercati, at
Metz. Vimercati reached Florence with the amended draft on the 4th of August, and it
was expected that the Treaty would be signed on the following day. When that day
came it saw the forces of the French Empire dashed to pieces.[538]
Preparations for a war with France had long occupied the general staff at Berlin. Before
the winter of 1868 a memoir had been drawn up by General Moltke, containing plans
for the concentration of the whole of the German forces, for the formation of each of
the armies to be employed, and the positions to be occupied at the outset by each corps.
On the basis of this memoir the arrangements for the transport of each corps from its
depot to the frontier had subsequently been worked out in such minute detail that when,
on the 16th of July, King William gave the order for mobilisation, nothing remained
but to insert in the railway time-tables and marching-orders the day on which the
movement was to commence. This minuteness of detail extended, however, only to that
part of Moltke's plan which related to the assembling and first placing of the troops.
The events of the campaign could not thus be arranged and tabulated beforehand; only
the general object and design could be laid down. That the French would throw
themselves with great rapidity upon Southern Germany was considered probable. The
armies of Baden, Würtemberg, and Bavaria were too weak, the military centres of the
North were too far distant, for effective resistance to be made in this quarter to the first
blows of the invader. Moltke therefore recommended that the Southern troops should
withdraw from their own States and move northwards to join those of Prussia in the
Palatinate or on the Middle Rhine, so that the entire forces of Germany should be
thrown upon the flank or rear of the invader; while, in the event of the French not thus
taking the offensive, France itself was to be invaded by the collective strength of
Germany along the line from Saarbrücken to Landau, and its armies were to be cut off
from their communications with Paris by vigorous movements of the invader in a
northerly direction. [539]
[German mobilisation.]
The military organisation of Germany is based on the division of the country into
districts, each of which furnishes at its own depôt a small but complete army. The
nucleus of each such corps exists in time of peace, with its own independent artillery,
stores, and material of war. On the order for mobilisation being given, every man liable
to military service, but not actually serving, joins the regiment to which he locally
belongs, and in a given number of days each corps is ready to take the field in full
strength. The completion of each corps at its own depôt is the first stage in the
preparation for a campaign. Not till this is effected does the movement of troops
towards the frontier begin. The time necessary for the first act of preparation was, like
that to be occupied in transport, accurately determined by the Prussian War Office. It
resulted from General Moltke's calculations that, the order of mobilisation having been
given on the 16th of July, the entire army with which it was intended to begin the
campaign would be collected and in position ready to cross the frontier on the 4th of
August, if the French should not have taken up the offensive before that day. But as it
was apprehended that part at least of the French army would be thrown into Germany
before that date, the westward movement of the German troops stopped short at a
considerable distance from the border, in order that the troops first arriving might not
be exposed to the attack of a superior force before their supports should be at hand. On
the actual frontier there was placed only the handful of men required for reconnoitring,
and for checking the enemy during the few hours that would be necessary to guard
against the effect of a surprise.
That the Imperial military administration was rotten to the core the terrible events of
the next few weeks sufficiently showed. Men were in high place whose antecedents
would have shamed the better kind of brigand. The deficiencies of the army were made
worse by the diversion of public funds to private necessities; the looseness, the vulgar
splendour, the base standards of judgment of the Imperial Court infected each branch
of the public services of France, and worked perhaps not least on those who were in
military command. But the catastrophe of 1870 seemed to those who witnessed it to tell
of more than the vileness of an administration; in England, not less than in Germany,
voices of influence spoke of the doom that had overtaken the depravity of a sunken
The main cause of the disparity of France and Germany in 1870 was in truth that
Prussia had had from 1862 to 1866 a Government so strong as to be able to force upon
its subjects its own gigantic scheme of military organisation in defiance of the votes of
Parliament and of the national will. In 1866 Prussia, with a population of nineteen
millions, brought actually into the field three hundred and fifty thousand men, or one in
fifty-four of its inhabitants. There was no other government in Europe, with the
possible exception of Russia, which could have imposed upon its subjects, without
risking its own existence, so vast a burden of military service as that implied in this
strength of the fighting army. Napoleon III. at the height of his power could not have
done so; and when after Königgrätz he endeavoured to raise the forces of France to an
equality with those of the rival Power by a system which would have brought about one
in seventy of the population into the field, his own nominees in the Legislative Body,
under pressure of public opinion, so weakened the scheme that the effective numbers of
the army remained little more than they were before. The true parallel to the German
victories of 1870 is to be found in the victories of the French Committee of Public
Safety in 1794 and in those of the first Napoleon. A government so powerful as to bend
the entire resources of the State to military ends will, whether it is one of democracy
run mad, or of a crowned soldier of fortune, or of an ancient monarchy throwing new
vigour into its traditional system and policy, crush in the moment of impact
communities of equal or greater resources in which a variety of rival influences limit
and control the central power and subordinate military to other interests. It was so in
the triumphs of the Reign of Terror over the First Coalition; it was so in the triumphs of
King William over Austria and France. But the parallel between the founders of
German unity and the organisers of victory after 1793 extends no farther than to the
sources of their success. Aggression and adventure have not been the sequels of the war
of 1870. The vast armaments of Prussia were created in order to establish German
union under the House of Hohenzollern, and they have been employed for no other
object. It is the triumph of statesmanship, and it has been the glory of Prince Bismarck,
after thus reaping the fruit of a well-timed homage to the God of Battles, to know how
to quit his shrine.
At the end of July, twelve days after the formal declaration of war, the gathering forces
of the Germans, over three hundred and eighty thousand strong, were still some
distance behind the Lauter and the Saar. Napoleon, apparently without any clear
design, had placed certain bodies of troops actually on the frontier at Forbach,
Weissenburg, and elsewhere, while other troops, raising the whole number to about two
hundred and fifty thousand, lay round Metz and Strasburg, and at points between these
and the most advanced positions. The reconnoitring of the small German detachments
on the frontier was conducted with extreme energy: the French appear to have made no
reconnaissances at all, for when they determined at last to discover what was facing
them at Saarbrücken, they advanced with twenty-five thousand men against one-tenth
of that number. On the 2nd of August Frossard's corps from Forbach moved upon
Saarbrücken with the Emperor in person. The garrison was driven out, and the town
bombarded, but even now the reconnaissance was not continued beyond the bridge
across the Saar which divides the two parts of the town. Forty-eight hours later the
alignment of the German forces in their invading order was completed, and all was
ready for an offensive campaign. The central army, commanded by Prince Frederick
Charles, spreading east and west behind Saarbrücken, touched on its right the northern
army commanded by General Steinmetz, on its left the southern army commanded by
the Crown Prince, which covered the frontier of the Palatinate, and included the troops
of Bavaria and Würtemberg. The general direction of the three armies was thus from
northwest to south-east. As the line of invasion was to be nearly due west, it was
necessary that the first step forwards should be made by the army of the Crown Prince
in order to bring it more nearly to a level with the northern corps in the march into
France. On the 4th of August the Crown Prince crossed the Alsatian frontier and moved
against Weissenburg. The French General Douay, who was posted here with about
twelve thousand men, was neither reinforced nor bidden to retire. His troops met the
attack of an enemy many times more numerous with great courage; but the struggle
was a hopeless one, and after several hours of severe fighting the Germans were
masters of the field. Douay fell in the battle; his troops frustrated an attempt made to
cut off their retreat, and fell back southwards towards the corps of McMahon, which
lay about ten miles behind them. The Crown Prince marched on in search of his enemy,
McMahon, who could collect only forty-five thousand men, desired to retreat until he
could gain some support; but the Emperor, tormented by fears of the political
consequences of the invasion, insisted upon his giving battle. He drew up on the hills
about Wörth, almost on the spot where in 1793 Hoche had overthrown the armies of
the First Coalition. On the 6th of August the leading divisions of the Crown Prince,
about a hundred thousand strong, were within striking distance. The superiority of the
Germans in numbers was so great that McMahon's army might apparently have been
captured or destroyed with far less loss than actually took place if time had been given
for the movements which the Crown Prince's staff had in view, and for the employment
of his full strength. But the impetuosity of divisional leaders on the morning of the 6th
brought on a general engagement. The resistance of the French was of the most
determined character. With one more army-corps-and the corps of General Failly was
expected to arrive on the field-it seemed as if the Germans might yet be beaten back.
But each hour brought additional forces into action in the attack, while the French
commander looked in vain for the reinforcements that could save him from ruin. At
length, when the last desperate charges of the Cuirassiers had shattered against the fire
of cannon and needle-guns, and the village of Froschwiller, the centre of the French
position, had been stormed house by house, the entire army broke and fled in disorder.
On the same day that the battle of Wörth was fought, the leading columns of the armies
of Steinmetz and Prince Frederick Charles crossed the frontier at Saarbrücken.
Frossard's corps, on the news of the defeat at Weissenburg, had withdrawn to its earlier
positions between Forbach and the frontier: it held the steep hills of Spicheren that look
down upon Saarbrücken, and the woods that flank the high road where this passes from
Germany into France. As at Wörth, it was not intended that any general attack should
be made on the 6th; a delay of twenty-four hours would have enabled the Germans to
envelop or crush Frossard's corps with an overwhelming force. But the leaders of the
foremost regiments threw themselves impatiently upon the French whom they found
before them: other brigades hurried up to the sound of the cannon, until the struggle
took the proportion of a battle, and after hours of fluctuating success the heights of
Spicheren were carried by successive rushes of the infantry full in the enemy's fire.
Why Frossard was not reinforced has never been explained, for several French
divisions lay at no great distance westward, and the position was so strong that, if a
pitched battle was to be fought anywhere east of Metz, few better points could have
been chosen. But, like Douay at Weissenburg, Frossard was left to struggle alone
against whatever forces the Germans might throw upon him. Napoleon, who directed
the operations of the French armies from Metz, appears to have been now incapable of
appreciating the simplest military necessities, of guarding against the most obvious
dangers. Helplessness, infatuation ruled the miserable hours.
The impression made upon Europe by the battles of the 6th of August corresponded to
the greatness of their actual military effects. There was an end to all thoughts of the
alliance of Austria and Italy with France. Germany, though unaware of the full
magnitude of the perils from which it had escaped, breathed freely after weeks of
painful suspense; the very circumstance that the disproportion of numbers on the
battle-field of Wörth was still unknown heightened the joy and confidence produced by
the Crown Prince's victory, a victory in which the South German troops, fighting by the
side of those who had been their foes in 1866, had borne their full part. In Paris the
consternation with which the news of McMahon's overthrow was received was all the
greater that on the previous day reports had been circulated of a victory won at Landau
and of the capture of the Crown Prince with his army. The bulletin of the Emperor,
briefly narrating McMahon's defeat and the repulse of Frossard, showed in its
concluding words-"All may yet be retrieved"-how profound was the change made in
the prospects of the war by that fatal day. The truth was at once apprehended. A storm
of indignation broke out against the Imperial Government at Paris. The Chambers were
summoned. Ollivier, attacked alike by the extreme Bonapartists and by the Opposition,
laid down his office. A reactionary Ministry, headed by the Count of Palikao, was
placed in power by the Empress, a Ministry of the last hour as it was justly styled by all
outside it. Levies were ordered, arms and stores accumulated for the reserve-forces,
preparations made for a siege of Paris itself. On the 12th the Emperor gave up the
command which he had exercised with such miserable results, and appointed Marshal
Bazaine, one of the heroes of the Mexican Expedition, General-in-Chief of the Army of
the Rhine.
After the overthrow of McMahon and the victory of the Germans at Spicheren, there
seems to have been a period of utter paralysis in the French headquarters at Metz. The
divisions of Prince Frederick Charles and Steinmetz did not immediately press forward;
it was necessary to allow some days for the advance of the Crown Prince through the
Vosges; and during these days the French army about Metz, which, when concentrated,
numbered nearly two hundred thousand men, might well have taken the positions
necessary for the defence of Moselle, or in the alternative might have gained several
marches in the retreat towards Verdun and Châlons. Only a small part of this body had
as yet been exposed to defeat. It included in it the very flower of the French forces, tens
of thousands of troops probably equal to any in Europe, and capable of forming a most
formidable army if united to the reserves which would shortly be collected at Châlons
or nearer Paris. But from the 7th to the 12th of August Napoleon, too cowed to take the
necessary steps for battle in defence of the line of Moselle, lingered purposeless a id
irresolute at Metz, unwilling to fall back from this fortress. It was not till the 14th that
the retreat was begun. By this time the Germans were close at hand, and their leaders
were little disposed to let the hesitating enemy escape them. While the leading
divisions of the French were crossing the Moselle, Steinmetz hurried forward his troops
and fell upon the French detachments still lying on the south-east of Metz about Borny
and Courcelles. Bazaine suspended his movement of retreat in order to beat back an
assailant who for once seemed to be inferior in strength. At the close of the day the
French commander believed that he had gained a victory and driven the Germans off
their line of advance; in reality he had allowed himself to be diverted from the passage
of the Moselle at the last hour, while the Germans left under Prince Frederick Charles
gained the river farther south, and actually began to cross it in order to bar his retreat.
From Metz westwards there is as far as the village of Gravelotte, which is seven miles
distant, but one direct road; at Gravelotte the road forks, the southern arm leading
towards Verdun by Vionville and Mars-la-Tour, the northern by Conflans. During the
15th of August the first of Bazaine's divisions moved as far as Vionville along the
southern road; others came into the neighbourhood of Gravelotte, but two corps which
should have advanced past Gravelotte on to the northern road still lay close to Metz.
The Prussian vanguard was meanwhile crossing the Moselle southwards from Noveant
to Pont-a-Mousson, and hurrying forwards by lines converging on the road taken by
Bazaine. Down to the evening of the 15th it was not supposed at the Prussian
headquarters that Bazaine could be overtaken and brought to battle nearer than the line
of the Meuse; but on the morning of the 16th the cavalry-detachments which had
pushed farthest to the north-west discovered that the heads of the French columns had
still not passed Mars-la-Tour. An effort was instantly made to seize the road and block
It was expected during the 17th that Bazaine would make some attempt to escape by
the northern road, but instead of doing so he fell back on Gravelotte and the heights
between this and Metz, in order to fight a pitched battle. The position was a
well-chosen one; but by midday on the 18th the armies of Steinmetz and Prince
Frederick Charles were ranged in front of Bazaine with a strength of two hundred and
fifty thousand men, and in the judgment of the King these forces were equal to the
attack. Again, as at Wörth, the precipitancy of divisional commanders caused the
sacrifice of whole brigades before the battle was won. While the Saxon corps with
which Moltke intended to deliver his slow but fatal blow upon the enemy's right flank
was engaged in its long northward détour, Steinmetz pushed his Rhinelanders past the
ravine of Gravelotte into a fire where no human being could survive, and the Guards,
pressing forward in column over the smooth unsheltered slope from St. Marie to St.
Privat, sank by thousands without reaching midway in their course. Until the final blow
was dealt by the Saxon corps from the north flank, the ground which was won by the
Prussians was won principally by their destructive artillery fire: their infantry attacks
had on the whole been repelled, and at Gravelotte itself it had seemed for a moment as
if the French were about to break the assailant's line. But Bazaine, as on the 16th,
steadily kept his reserves at a distance from the points where their presence was most
required, and, according to his own account, succeeded in bringing into action no more
than a hundred thousand men, or less than two-thirds of the forces under his command.
[540] At the close of the awful day, when the capture of St. Privat by the Saxons turned
the defender's line, the French abandoned all their positions and drew back within the
defences of Metz.
The Germans at once proceeded to block all the roads round the fortress, and Bazaine
made no effort to prevent them. At the end of a few days the line was drawn around
him in sufficient strength to resist any sudden attack. Steinmetz, who was responsible
for a great part of the loss sustained at Gravelotte, was now removed from his
The movement was discovered by the Prussian cavalry and reported at the headquarters
at Bar-le-Duc on the 25th. Instantly the westward march of the Crown Prince was
arrested, and his army, with that of the Prince of Saxony, was thrown northwards in
forced marches towards Sedan. On reaching Le Chesne, west of the Meuse, on the
27th, McMahon became aware of the enemy's presence. He saw that his plan was
discovered, and resolved to retreat westwards before it was too late. The Emperor, who
had attached himself to the army, consented, but again the Government at Paris
interfered with fatal effect. More anxious for the safety of the dynasty than for the
existence of the army, the Empress and her advisers insisted that McMahon should
continue his advance. Napoleon seems now to have abdicated all authority and thrown
to the winds all responsibility. He allowed the march to be resumed in the direction of
Mouzon and Stenay. Failly's corps, which formed the right wing, was attacked on the
29th before it could reach the passage of the Meuse at the latter place, and was driven
northwards to Beaumont. Here the commander strangely imagined himself to be in
security. He was surprised in his camp on the following day, defeated, and driven
northwards towards Mouzon. Meanwhile the left of McMahon's army had crossed the
Meuse and moved eastwards to Carignan, so that his troops were severed by the river
and at some distance from one another. Part of Failly's men were made prisoners in the
struggle on the south, or dispersed on the west of the Meuse; the remainder, with their
commander, made a hurried and disorderly escape beyond the river, and neglected to
break down the bridges by which they had passed. McMahon saw that if the advance
was continued his divisions would one after another fall into the enemy's hands. He
recalled the troops which had reached Carignan, and concentrated his army about
Sedan to fight a pitched battle. The passages of the Meuse above and below Sedan
The German Chancellor had nothing ready in the way of rhetoric equal to his
antagonist's phrases; but as soon as the battle of Sedan was won it was settled at the
Prussian headquarters that peace would not be made without the annexation of Alsace
and Lorraine. Prince Bismarck has stated that his own policy would have stopped at the
acquisition of Strasburg: Moltke, however, and the chiefs of the army pronounced that
Germany could not be secure against invasion while Metz remained in the hands of
France, and this opinion was accepted by the King. For a moment it was imagined that
the victory of Sedan had given the conqueror peace on his own terms. This hope,
however, speedily disappeared, and the march upon Paris was resumed by the army of
the Crown Prince without waste of time. In the third week of September the invaders
approached the capital. Favre, in spite of his declaration of the 6th, was not indisposed
to enter upon negotiations; and, trusting to his own arts of persuasion, he sought an
interview with the German Chancellor, which was granted to him at Ferrières on the
19th, and continued on the following day. Bismarck hesitated to treat the holders of
office in Paris as an established Government; he was willing to grant an armistice in
order that elections might be held for a National Assembly with which Germany could
treat for peace; but he required, as a condition of the armistice, that Strasburg and Toul
should be surrendered. Toul was already at the last extremity; Strasburg was not
capable of holding out ten days longer; but of this the Government at Paris was not
aware. The conditions demanded by Bismarck were rejected as insulting to France, and
the war was left to take its course. Already, while Favre was negotiating at Ferrières,
the German vanguard was pressing round to the west of Paris. A body of French troops
which attacked them on the 19th at Châtillon was put to the rout and fled in panic.
Versailles was occupied on the same day, and the line of investment was shortly
afterwards completed around the capital.
[Tours.]
[Gambetta at Tours.]
The second act in the war now began. Paris had been fortified by Thiers about 1840, at
the time when it seemed likely that France might be engaged in war with a coalition on
the affairs of Mehemet Ali. The forts were not distant enough from the city to protect it
altogether from artillery with the lengthened range of 1870; they were sufficient,
however, to render an assault out of the question, and to compel the besieger to rely
mainly on the slow operation of famine. It had been reckoned by the engineers of 1840
that food enough might be collected to enable the city to stand a two-months' siege; so
vast, however, were the supplies collected in 1870 that, with double the population,
Paris had provisions for above four months. In spite therefore of the capture and
destruction of its armies the cause of France was not hopeless, if, while Paris and Metz
occupied four hundred thousand of the invaders, the population of the provinces should
take up the struggle with enthusiasm, and furnish after some months of military
exercise troops more numerous than those which France had lost, to attack the
besiegers from all points at once and to fall upon their communications. To organise
such a national resistance was, however, impossible for any Government within the
besieged capital itself. It was therefore determined to establish a second seat of
Government on the Loire; and before the lines were drawn round Paris three members
of the Ministry, with M. Crémieux at their head, set out for Tours. Crémieux, however,
who was an aged lawyer, proved quite unequal to his task. His authority was disputed
in the west and the south. Revolutionary movements threatened to break up the unity of
the national defence. A stronger hand, a more commanding will, was needed. Such a
hand, such a will belonged to Gambetta, who on the 7th of October left Paris in order to
undertake the government of the provinces and the organisation of the national armies.
The circle of the besiegers was now too closely drawn for the ordinary means of travel
to be possible. Gambetta passed over the German lines in a balloon, and reached Tours
in safety, where he immediately threw his feeble colleagues into the background and
concentrated all power in his own vigorous grasp. The effect of his presence was at
once felt throughout France. There was an end of the disorders in the great cities, and
of all attempts at rivalry with the central power. Gambetta had the faults of rashness, of
excessive self-confidence, of defective regard for scientific authority in matters where
he himself was ignorant: but he possessed in an extraordinary degree the qualities
necessary for a Dictator at such a national crisis: boundless, indomitable courage; a
simple, elemental passion of love for his country that left absolutely no place for
hesitations or reserve in the prosecution of the one object for which France then
existed, the war. He carried the nation with him like a whirlwind. Whatever share the
military errors of Gambetta and his rash personal interference with commanders may
have had in the ultimate defeat of France, without him it would never have been known
of what efforts France was capable. The proof of his capacity was seen in the hatred
and the fear with which down to the time of his death he inspired the German people.
Had there been at the head of the army of Metz a man of one-tenth of Gambetta's
effective force, it is possible that France might have closed the war, if not with success,
at least with undiminished territory.
Before Gambetta left Paris the fall of Strasburg set free the army under General Werder
by which it had been besieged, and enabled the Germans to establish a civil
Government in Alsace, the western frontier of the new Province having been already so
accurately studied that, when peace was made in 1871, the frontier-line was drawn not
upon one of the earlier French maps but on the map now published by the German
staff. It was Gambetta's first task to divide France into districts, each with its own
military centre, its own army, and its own commander. Four such districts were made:
the centres were Lille, Le Mans, Bourges, and Besançon. At Bourges and in the
neighbourhood considerable progress had already been made in organisation. Early in
October German cavalry-detachments, exploring southwards, found that French troops
were gathering on the Loire. The Bavarian General Von der Tann was detached by
Moltke from the besieging army at Paris, and ordered to make himself master of
Orleans. Von der Tann hastened southwards, defeated the French outside Orleans on
the 11th of October, and occupied this city, the French retiring towards Bourges.
Gambetta removed the defeated commander, and set in his place General Aurelle de
Paladines. Von der Tann was directed to cross the Loire and destroy the arsenals at
Bourges; he reported, however, that this task was beyond his power, in consequence of
which Moltke ordered General Werder with the army of Strasburg to move westwards
against Bourges, after dispersing the weak forces that were gathering about Besançon.
Werder set out on his dangerous march, but he had not proceeded far when an army of
very different power was thrown into the scale against the French levies on the Loire.
[Bazaine at Metz.]
In the battle of Gravelotte, fought on the 18th of August, the French troops had been so
handled by Bazaine as to render it doubtful whether he really intended to break through
the enemy's line and escape from Metz. At what period political designs inconsistent
with his military duty first took possession of Bazaine's thoughts is uncertain. He had
played a political part in Mexico; it is probable that as soon as he found himself at the
head of the one effective army of France, and saw Napoleon hopelessly discredited, he
began to aim at personal power. Before the downfall of the Empire he had evidently
adopted a scheme of inaction with the object of preserving his army entire: even the
sortie by which it had been arranged that he should assist McMahon on the day before
Sedan was feebly and irresolutely conducted. After the proclamation of the Republic
Bazaine's inaction became still more marked. The intrigues of an adventurer named
Regnier, who endeavoured to open a negotiation between the Prussians and the exiled
Empress Eugénie, encouraged him in his determination to keep his soldiers from
[Bazaine.]
Bazaine was at a later time tried by a court-martial, found guilty of the neglect of duty,
and sentenced to death. That sentence was not executed; but if there is an infamy that is
worse than death, such infamy will to all time cling to his name. In the circumstances
in which France was placed no effort, no sacrifice of life could have been too great for
the commander of the army at Metz. To retain the besiegers in full strength before the
fortress would not have required the half of Bazaine's actual force. If half his army had
fallen on the field of battle in successive attempts to cut their way through the enemy,
brave men would no doubt have perished; but even had their efforts failed their deaths
would have purchased for Metz the power to hold out for weeks or for months longer.
The civil population of Metz was but sixty thousand, its army was three times as
numerous; unlike Paris, it saw its stores consumed not by helpless millions of women
and children, but by soldiers whose duty it was to aid the defence of their country at
whatever cost. Their duty, if they could not cut their way through, was to die fighting;
and had they shown hesitation, which was not the case, Bazaine should have died at
their head. That Bazaine would have fulfilled his duty even if Napoleon III. had
remained on the throne is more than doubtful, for his inaction had begun before the
catastrophe of Sedan. His pretext after that time was that the government of France had
fallen into the hands of men of disorder, and that it was more important for his army to
save France from the Government than from the invader. He was the only man in
France who thought so. The Government of September 4th, whatever its faults, was
good enough for tens of thousands of brave men, Legitimists, Orleanists, Bonapartists,
who flocked without distinction of party to its banners: it might have been good enough
for Marshal Bazaine. But France had to pay the penalty for the political, the moral
indifference which could acquiesce in the Coup d'État of 1851, in the servility of the
Empire, in many a vile and boasted deed in Mexico, in China, in Algiers. Such
indifference found its Nemesis in a Bazaine.
The surrender of Metz and the release of the great army of Prince Frederick Charles by
which it was besieged fatally changed the conditions of the French war of national
defence. Two hundred thousand of the victorious troops of Germany under some of
their ablest generals were set free to attack the still untrained levies on the Loire and in
the north of France, which, with more time for organisation, might well have forced the
Germans to raise the siege of Paris. The army once commanded by Steinmetz was now
reconstituted, and despatched under General Manteuffel towards Amiens; Prince
Frederick Charles moved with the remainder of his troops towards the Loire. Aware
that his approach could not long be delayed, Gambetta insisted that Aurelle de
Paladines should begin the march on Paris. The general attacked Tann at Coulmiers on
the 9th of November, defeated him, and re-occupied Orleans, the first real success that
the French had gained in the war. There was great alarm at the German headquarters at
Versailles; the possibility of a failure of the siege was discussed; and forty thousand
troops were sent southwards in haste to the support of the Bavarian general. Aurelle,
however, did not move upon the capital: his troops were still unfit for the enterprise;
and he remained stationary on the north of Orleans, in order to improve his
organisation, to await reinforcements, and to meet the attack of Frederick Charles in a
strong position. In the third week of November the leading divisions of the army of
Metz approached, and took post between Orleans and Paris. Gambetta now insisted that
the effort should be made to relieve the capital. Aurelle resisted, but was forced to
obey. The garrison of Paris had already made several unsuccessful attacks upon the
lines of their besiegers, the most vigorous being that of Le Bourget on the 30th of
October, in which bayonets were crossed. It was arranged that in the last days of
November General Trochu should endeavour to break out on the southern side, and that
simultaneously the army of the Loire should fall upon the enemy in front of it and
endeavour to force its way to the capital. On the 28th the attack upon the Germans on
the north of Orleans began. For several days the struggle was renewed by one division
after another of the armies of Aurelle and Prince Frederick Charles. Victory remained
at last with the Germans; the centre of the French position was carried; the right and
left wings of the army were severed from one another and forced to retreat, the one up
the Loire, the other towards the west. Orleans on the 5th of December passed back into
the hands of the Germans. The sortie from Paris, which began with a successful attack
by General Ducrot upon Champigny beyond the Marne, ended after some days of
combat in the recovery by the Germans of the positions which they had lost, and in the
retreat of Ducrot into Paris. In the same week Manteuffel, moving against the relieving
army of the north, encountered it near Amiens, defeated it after a hard struggle, and
gained possession of Amiens itself.
After the fall of Amiens, Manteuffel moved upon Rouen. This city fell into his hands
without resistance; the conquerors pressed on westwards, and at Dieppe troops which
had come from the confines of Russia gazed for the first time upon the sea. But the
Republican armies, unlike those which the Germans had first encountered, were not to
be crushed at a single blow. Under the energetic command of Faidherbe the army of the
[Bourbaki.]
During the last three weeks of December there was a pause in the operations of the
Germans on the Loire. It was expected that Bourbaki and the east wing of The Armies
of the French army would soon re-appear at Orleans and endeavour to combine with
Chanzy's troops. Gambetta, however, had formed another plan. He considered that
Chanzy, with the assistance of divisions formed in Brittany, would be strong enough to
encounter Prince Frederick Charles, and he determined to throw the army of Bourbaki,
strengthened by reinforcements from the south, upon Germany itself. The design was a
daring one, and had the two French armies been capable of performing the work which
Gambetta required of them, an inroad into Baden, or even the re-conquest of Alsace,
would most seriously have affected the position of the Germans before Paris. But
Gambetta miscalculated the power of young, untrained troops, imperfectly armed,
badly fed, against a veteran enemy. In a series of hard-fought struggles the army of the
Loire under General Chanzy was driven back at the beginning of January from
Vendome to Le Mans. On the 12th, Chanzy took post before this city and fought his
last battle. While he was making a vigorous resistance in the centre of the line, the
Breton regiments stationed on his right gave way; the Germans pressed round him, and
gained possession of the town. Chanzy retreated towards Laval, leaving thousands of
prisoners in the hands of the enemy, and saving only the debris of an army. Bourbaki in
the meantime, with a numerous but miserably equipped force, had almost reached
Belfort. The report of his eastward movement was not at first believed at the German
headquarters before Paris, and the troops of General Werder, which had been engaged
about Dijon with a body of auxiliaries commanded by Garibaldi, were left to bear the
brunt of the attack without support. When the real state of affairs became known
Manteuffel was sent eastwards in hot haste towards the threatened point. Werder had
evacuated Dijon and fallen back upon Vesoul; part of his army was still occupied in the
siege of Belfort. As Bourbaki approached he fell back with the greater part of his
troops in order to cover the besieging force, leaving one of his lieutenants to make a
flank attack upon Bourbaki at Villersexel. This attack, one of the fiercest in the war,
The war was now over. Two days after Bourbaki's repulse at Montbéliard the last
unsuccessful sortie was made from Paris. There now remained provisions only for
another fortnight; above forty thousand of the inhabitants had succumbed to the
privations of the siege; all hope of assistance from the relieving armies before actual
famine should begin disappeared. On the 23rd of January Favre sought the German
Chancellor at Versailles in order to discuss the conditions of a general armistice and of
the capitulation of Paris. The negotiations lasted for several days; on the 28th an
armistice was signed with the declared object that elections might at once be freely
held for a National Assembly, which should decide whether the war should be
continued, or on what conditions peace should be made. The conditions of the armistice
were that the forts of Paris and all their material of war should be handed over to the
German army; that the artillery of the enceinte should be dismounted; and that the
regular troops in Paris should, as prisoners of war, surrender their arms. The National
Guard were permitted to retain their weapons and their artillery. Immediately upon the
fulfilment of the first two conditions all facilities were to be given for the entry of
supplies of food into Paris. [545]
The articles of the armistice were duly executed, and on the 30th of January the
Prussian flag waved over the forts of the French capital. Orders were sent into the
provinces by the Government that elections should at once be held. It had at one time
been feared by Count Bismarck that Gambetta would acknowledge no armistice that
might be made by his colleagues at Paris. But this apprehension was not realised, for,
while protesting against a measure adopted without consultation with himself and his
companions at Bordeaux, Gambetta did not actually reject the armistice. He called
upon the nation, however, to use the interval for the collection of new forces; and in the
hope of gaining from the election an Assembly in favour of a continuation of the war,
he published a decree incapacitating for election all persons who had been connected
with the Government of Napoleon III. Against this decree Bismarck at once protested,
and at his instance it was cancelled by the Government of Paris. Gambetta thereupon
[German Unity.]
France had made war in order to undo the work of partial union effected by Prussia in
1866: it achieved the opposite result, and Germany emerged from the war with the
Empire established. Immediately after the victory of Wörth the Crown Prince had seen
that the time had come for abolishing the line of division which severed Southern
Germany from the Federation of the North. His own conception of the best form of
national union was a German Empire with its chief at Berlin. That Count Bismarck was
without plans for uniting North and South Germany it is impossible to believe; but the
Minister and the Crown Prince had always been at enmity; and when, after the battle of
Sedan, they spoke together of the future, it seemed to the Prince as if Bismarck had
scarcely thought of the federation of the Empire or of the re-establishment of the
Imperial dignity, and as if he was inclined to it only under certain reserves. It was,
however, part of Bismarck's system to exclude the Crown Prince as far as possible from
political affairs, under the strange pretext that his relationship to Queen Victoria would
be abused by the French proclivities of the English Court; and it is possible that had the
Chancellor after the battle of Sedan chosen to admit the Prince to his confidence
instead of resenting his interference, the difference between their views as to the future
of Germany would have been seen to be one rather of forms and means than of
intention. But whatever the share of these two dissimilar spirits in the initiation of the
last steps towards German union, the work, as ultimately achieved, was both in form
In the acts which thus gave to Germany political cohesion there was nothing that
altered the title of its chief. Bismarck, however, had in the meantime informed the
recalcitrant sovereigns that if they did not themselves offer the Imperial dignity to King
William, the North German Parliament would do so. At the end of November a letter
was accordingly sent by the King of Bavaria to all his fellow-sovereigns, proposing
that the King of Prussia, as President of the newly-formed Federation, should assume
the title of German Emperor. Shortly afterwards the same request was made by the
same sovereign to King William himself, in a letter dictated by Bismarck. A deputation
from the North German Reichstag, headed by its President, Dr. Simson, who, as
President of the Frankfort National Assembly, had in 1849 offered the Imperial Crown
to King Frederick William, expressed the concurrence of the nation in the act of the
Princes. It was expected that before the end of the year the new political arrangements
would have been sanctioned by the Parliaments of all the States concerned, and the 1st
of January had been fixed for the assumption of the Imperial title. So vigorous,
however, was the opposition made in the Bavarian Chamber, that the ceremony was
postponed till the 18th. Even then the final approving vote had not been taken at
Munich; but a second adjournment would have been fatal to the dignity of the
occasion; and on the 18th of January, in the midst of the Princes of Germany and the
representatives of its army assembled in the Hall of Mirrors at Versailles, King William
assumed the title of German Emperor. The first Parliament of the Empire was opened
at Berlin two months later.
[The Commune.]
The misfortunes of France did not end with the fall of its capital and the loss of its
border provinces; the terrible drama of 1870 closed with civil war. It is part of the
normal order of French history that when an established Government is overthrown,
and another is set in its place, this second Government is in its turn attacked by
insurrection in Paris, and an effort is made to establish the rule of the democracy of the
capital itself, or of those who for the moment pass for its leaders. It was so in 1793, in
There were in the ranks of those who fought for the Commune some who fought in the
sincere belief that their cause was that of municipal freedom; there were others who
believed, and with good reason, that the existence of the Republic was threatened by a
reactionary Assembly at Versailles; but the movement was on the whole the work of
fanatics who sought to subvert every authority but their own; and the unfortunate mob
who followed them, in so far as they fought for anything beyond the daily pay which
had been their only means of sustenance since the siege began, fought for they knew
not what. As the conflict was prolonged, it took on both sides a character of atrocious
violence and cruelty. The murder of Generals Lecomte and Thomas at the outset was
avenged by the execution of some of the first prisoners taken by the troops of
Versailles. Then hostages were seized by the Commune. The slaughter in cold blood of
three hundred National Guards surprised at Clamart by the besiegers gave to the
Parisians the example of massacre. When, after a siege of six weeks, in which Paris
suffered far more severely than it had suffered from the cannonade of the Germans, the
troops of Versailles at length made their way into the capital, humanity, civilisation,
seemed to have vanished in the orgies of devils. The defenders, as they fell back,
murdered their hostages, and left behind them palaces, museums, the entire public
inheritance of the nation in its capital, in flames. The conquerors during several days
shot down all whom they took fighting, and in many cases put to death whole bands of
prisoners without distinction. The temper of the army was such that the Government,
even if it had desired, could probably not have mitigated the terrors of this vengeance.
But there was little sign anywhere of an inclination to mercy. Courts-martial and
executions continued long after the heat of combat was over. A year passed, and the
tribunals were still busy with their work. Above ten thousand persons were sentenced
to transportation or imprisonment before public justice was satisfied.
[The Papacy.]
The material losses which France sustained at the hands of the invader and in civil war
were soon repaired; but from the battle of Wörth down to the overthrow of the
Commune France had been effaced as a European Power, and its effacement was
turned to good account by two nations who were not its enemies. Russia, with the
sanction of Europe, threw off the trammels which had been imposed upon it in the
Black Sea by the Treaty of 1856. Italy gained possession of Rome. Soon after the
declaration of war the troops of France, after an occupation of twenty-one years broken
only by an interval of some months in 1867, were withdrawn from the Papal territory.
Whatever may have been the understanding with Victor Emmanuel on which Napoleon
recalled his troops from Civita Vecchia, the battle of Sedan set Italy free; and on the
20th of September the National Army, after overcoming a brief show of resistance,
entered Rome. The unity of Italy was at last completed; Florence ceased to be the
national capital. A body of laws passed by the Italian Parliament, and known as the
Guarantees, assured to the Pope the honours and immunities of a sovereign, the
possession of the Vatican and the Lateran palaces, and a princely income; in the
appointment of Bishops and generally in the government of the Church a fulness of
authority was freely left to him such as he possessed in no other European land. But
Pius would accept no compromise for the loss of his temporal power. He spurned the
reconciliation with the Italian people, which had now for the first time since 1849
become possible. He declared Rome to be in the possession of brigands; and, with a
fine affectation of disdain for Victor Emmanuel and the Italian Government, he
invented, and sustained down to the end of his life, before a world too busy to pay
much heed to his performance, the reproachful part of the Prisoner of the Vatican.
CHAPTER XXV.
The storm of 1870 was followed by some years of European calm. France, recovering
with wonderful rapidity from the wounds inflicted by the war, paid with ease the
instalments of its debt to Germany, and saw its soil liberated from the foreigner before
the period fixed by the Treaty of Frankfort. The efforts of a reactionary Assembly were
kept in check by M. Thiers; the Republic, as the form of government which divided
Frenchmen the least, was preferred by him to the monarchical restoration which might
have won France allies at some of the European Courts. For two years Thiers baffled or
controlled the royalist majority at Versailles which sought to place the Comté de
Chambord or the chief of the House of Orleans on the throne, and thus saved his
country from the greatest of all perils, the renewal of civil war. In 1873 he fell before a
combination of his opponents, and McMahon succeeded to the Presidency, only to find
that the royalist cause was made hopeless by the refusal of the Comté de Chambord to
adopt the Tricolour flag, and that France, after several years of trial, definitely preferred
the Republic. Meanwhile, Prince Bismarck had known how to frustrate all plans for
raising a coalition against victorious Germany among the Powers which had been
injured by its successes, or whose interests were threatened by its greatness. He saw
that a Bourbon or a Napoleon on the throne of France would find far more sympathy
and confidence at Vienna and St. Petersburg than the shifting chief of a Republic, and
ordered Count Arnim, the German Ambassador at Paris, who wished to promote a
Napoleonic restoration, to desist from all attempts to weaken the Republican
Government. At St. Petersburg, where after the misfortunes of 1815 France had found
its best friends, the German statesman had as yet little to fear. Bismarck had supported
Russia in undoing the Treaty of Paris; in announcing the conclusion of peace with
France, the German Emperor had assured the Czar in the most solemn language that his
services in preventing the war of 1870 from becoming general should never be
forgotten; and, whatever might be the feeling of his subjects, Alexander II. continued to
believe that Russia could find no steadier friend than the Government of Berlin.
With Austria Prince Bismarck had a more difficult part to play. He could hope for no
real understanding so long as Beust remained at the head of affairs. But the events of
1870, utterly frustrating Beust's plans for a coalition against Prussia, and definitely
closing for Austria all hope of recovering its position within Germany, had shaken the
Minister's position. Bismarck was able to offer to the Emperor Francis Joseph the
sincere and cordial friendship of the powerful German Empire, on the condition that
Austria should frankly accept the work of 1866 and 1870. He had dissuaded his master
after the victory of Königgrätz from annexing any Austrian territory; he had imposed
In the summer of 1875 Herzegovina rose against its Turkish masters, and in Bosnia
conflicts broke out between Christians and Mohammedans. The insurrection was
vigorously, though privately, supported by Servia and Montenegro, and for some
months baffled all the efforts made by the Porte for its suppression. Many thousands of
the Christians, flying from a devastated land and a merciless enemy, sought refuge
beyond the Austrian frontier, and became a burden upon the Austrian Government. The
agitation among the Slavic neighbours and kinsmen of the insurgents threatened the
peace of Austria itself, where Slav and Magyar were almost as ready to fall upon one
another as Christian and Turk. Andrássy entered into communications with the
Governments of St. Petersburg and Berlin as to the adoption of a common line of
policy by the three Empires towards the Porte; and a scheme of reforms, intended to
effect the pacification of the insurgent provinces, was drawn up by the three Ministers
in concert with one another. This project, which was known as the Andrássy Note, and
which received the approval of England and France, demanded from the Porte the
establishment of full and entire religious liberty, the abolition of the farming of taxes,
the application of the revenue produced by direct taxation in Bosnia and Herzegovina
to the needs of those provinces themselves, the institution of a Commission composed
equally of Christians and Mohammedans to control the execution of these reforms and
of those promised by the Porte, and finally the improvement of the agrarian condition
of the population by the sale to them of waste lands belonging to the State. The Note
demanding these reforms was presented in Constantinople on the 31st of January,
1876. The Porte, which had already been lavish of promises to the insurgents, raised
certain objections in detail, but ultimately declared itself willing to grant in substance
Armed with this assurance, the representatives of Austria now endeavoured to persuade
the insurgents to lay down their arms and the refugees to return to their homes. But the
answer was made that promises enough had already been given by the Sultan, and that
the question was, not what more was to be written on a piece of paper, but how the
execution of these promises was to be enforced. Without some guarantee from the
Great Powers of Europe the refugees refused to place themselves again at the mercy of
the Turk, and the leaders in Herzegovina refused to disband their troops. The conflict
broke out afresh with greater energy; the intervention of the Powers, far from having
produced peace, roused the fanatical passions of the Mohammedans both against the
Christian rayahs and against the foreigner to whom they had appealed. A wave of
religious, of patriotic agitation, of political disquiet, of barbaric fury, passed over the
Turkish Empire. On the 6th of May the Prussian and the French Consuls at Salonika
were attacked and murdered by the mob. In Smyrna and Constantinople there were
threatening movements against the European inhabitants; in Bulgaria, the Circassian
settlers and the hordes of irregular troops whom the Government had recently sent into
that province waited only for the first sign of an expected insurrection to fall upon their
prey and deluge the land with blood.
As soon as it became evident that peace was not to be produced by Count Andrássy's
Note, the Ministers of the three Empires determined to meet one another with the view
of arranging further diplomatic steps to be taken in common. Berlin, which the Czar
was about to visit, was chosen as the meeting-place; the date of the meeting was fixed
for the second week in May. It was in the interval between the despatch of Prince
Bismarck's invitation and the arrival of the Czar, with Prince Gortschakoff and Count
Andrássy, that intelligence came of the murder of the Prussian and French Consuls at
Salonika. This event gave a deeper seriousness to the deliberations now held. The
Ministers declared that if the representatives of two foreign Powers could be thus
murdered in broad daylight in a peaceful town under the eyes of the powerless
authorities, the Christians of the insurgent provinces might well decline to entrust
themselves to an exasperated enemy. An effective guarantee for the execution of the
promises made by the Porte had become absolutely necessary. The conclusions of the
Ministers were embodied in a Memorandum, which declared that an armistice of two
months must be imposed on the combatants; that the mixed Commission mentioned in
the Andrássy Note must be at once called into being, with a Christian native of
Herzegovina at its head; and that the reforms promised by the Porte must be carried out
under the superintendence of the representatives of the European Powers. If before the
end of the armistice the Porte should not have given its assent to these terms, the
Imperial Courts declared that they must support these diplomatic efforts by measures of
a more effective character. [547]
On the same day that this Memorandum was signed, Prince Bismarck invited the
British, the French, and Italian Ambassadors to meet the Russian and the Austrian
Chancellors at his residence. They did so. The Memorandum was read, and an urgent
[Massacres in Bulgaria.]
Up to this time little attention had been paid in England to the revolt of the Christian
subjects of the Porte or its effect on European politics. Now, however, a series of
events began which excited the interest and even the passion of the English people in
an extraordinary degree. The ferment in Constantinople was deepening. On the 29th of
May the Sultan Abdul Aziz was deposed by Midhat Pasha and Hussein Avni, the
former the chief of the party of reform, the latter the representative of the older Turkish
military and patriotic spirit which Abdul Aziz had incensed by his subserviency to
Russia. A few days later the deposed Sultan was murdered. Hussein Avni and another
rival of Midhat were assassinated by a desperado as they sat at the council; Murad V.,
who had been raised to the throne, proved imbecile; and Midhat, the destined
regenerator of the Ottoman Empire as many outside Turkey believed, grasped all but
the highest power in the State. Towards the end of June reports reached western Europe
of the repression of an insurrection in Bulgaria with measures of atrocious violence.
Servia and Montenegro, long active in support of their kinsmen who were in arms,
declared war. The reports from Bulgaria, at first vague, took more definite form; and at
length the correspondents of German as well as English newspapers, making their way
to the district south of the Balkans, found in villages still strewed with skeletons and
human remains the terrible evidence of what had passed. The British Ministry, relying
upon the statements of Sir H. Elliot, Ambassador at Constantinople, at first denied the
seriousness of the massacres: they directed, however, that investigations should be
made on the spot by a member of the Embassy; and Mr. Baring, Secretary of Legation,
was sent to Bulgaria with this duty. Baring's report confirmed the accounts which his
chief had refused to believe, and placed the number of the victims, rightly or wrongly,
at not less than twelve thousand. [548]
[Opinion in England.]
The Bulgarian massacres acted on Europe in 1876 as the massacre of Chios had acted
on Europe in 1822. In England especially they excited the deepest horror, and
completely changed the tone of public opinion towards the Turk. Hitherto the public
mind had scarcely been conscious of the questions that were at issue in the East.
[Disraeli.]
Disraeli's conception of Parliamentary politics was an ironical one. It had pleased the
British nation that the leadership of one of its great political parties should be won by a
man of genius only on the condition of accommodating himself to certain singular
fancies of his contemporaries; and for twenty years, from the time of his attacks upon
Sir Robert Peel for the abolition of the corn-laws down to the time when he educated
his party into the democratic Reform Bill of 1867, Disraeli with an excellent grace
suited himself to the somewhat strange parts which he was required to play. But after
1874, when he was placed in office at the head of a powerful majority in both Houses
of Parliament and of a submissive Cabinet, the antics ended; the epoch of
statesmanship, and of statesmanship based on the leader's own individual thought not
on the commonplace of public creeds, began. At a time when Cavour was rice-growing
and Bismarck unknown outside his own county, Disraeli had given to the world in
Tancred his visions of Eastern Empire. Mysterious chieftains planned the regeneration
of Asia by a new crusade of Arab and Syrian votaries of the one living faith, and lightly
touched on the transfer of Queen Victoria's Court from London to Delhi. Nothing
indeed is perfect; and Disraeli's eye was favoured with such extraordinary perceptions
of the remote that it proved a little uncertain in its view of matters not quite without
importance nearer home. He thought the attempt to establish Italian independence a
misdemeanour; he listened to Bismarck's ideas on the future of Germany, and described
them as the vapourings of a German baron. For a quarter of a century Disraeli had
dazzled and amused the House of Commons without, as it seemed, drawing inspiration
from any one great cause or discerning any one of the political goals towards which the
The rejection by England of the Berlin Memorandum and the proclamation of war by
Servia and Montenegro were followed by the closer union of the three Imperial Courts.
The Czar and the Emperor Francis Joseph, with their Ministers, met at Reichstadt in
Bohemia on the 8th of July. According to official statements the result of the meeting
was that the two sovereigns determined upon non-intervention for the present, and
proposed only to renew the attempt to unite all the Christian Powers in a common
policy when some definite occasion should arise. Rumours, however, which proved to
The imminence of a war between Russia and Turkey in the last days of October and the
close connection between Russia and the Servian cause justified the anxiety of the
British Government. This anxiety the Czar sought to dispel by a frank declaration of his
own views. On the 2nd of November he entered into conversation with the British
Ambassador, Lord A. Loftus, and assured him on his word of honour that he had no
intention of acquiring Constantinople; that if it should be necessary for him to occupy
part of Bulgaria his army would remain there only until peace was restored and the
security of the Christian population established; and, generally, that he desired nothing
more earnestly than a complete accord between England and Russia in the maintenance
of European peace and the improvement of the condition of the Christian population in
Turkey. He stated, however, with perfect clearness that if the Porte should continue to
refuse the reforms demanded by Europe, and the Powers should put up with its
continued refusal, Russia would act alone. Disclaiming in words of great earnestness
all desire for territorial aggrandisement, he protested against the suspicion with which
his policy was regarded in England, and desired that his words might be made public in
England as a message of peace. [551] Lord Derby, then Foreign Secretary, immediately
expressed the satisfaction with which the Government had received these assurances;
and on the following day an invitation was sent from London to all the European
Powers proposing a Conference at Constantinople, on the basis of a common
recognition of the integrity of the Ottoman Empire, accompanied by a disavowal on the
part of each of the Powers of all aims at aggrandisement or separate advantage. In
The proposal made by the Earl of Derby for a Conference at Constantinople was
accepted by all the Powers, and accepted on the bases specified. Lord Salisbury, then
Secretary of State for India, was appointed to represent Great Britain in conjunction
with Sir H. Elliot, its Ambassador. The Minister made his journey to Constantinople by
way of the European capitals, and learnt at Berlin that the good understanding between
the German Emperor and the Czar extended to Eastern affairs. Whether the British
Government had as yet gained any trustworthy information on the Treaty of Reichstadt
is doubtful; but so far as the public eye could judge, there was now, in spite of the tone
assumed by Lord Beaconsfield, a fairer prospect of the solution of the Eastern question
by the establishment of some form of autonomy in the Christian provinces than there
had been at any previous time. The Porte itself recognised the serious intention of the
Powers, and, in order to forestall the work of the Conference, prepared a scheme of
constitutional reform that far surpassed the wildest claims of Herzegovinian or of Serb.
Nothing less than a complete system of Parliamentary Government, with the very latest
ingenuities from France and Belgium, was to be granted to the entire Ottoman Empire.
That Midhat Pasha, who was the author of this scheme, may have had some serious end
in view is not impossible; but with the mass of Palace-functionaries at Constantinople it
was simply a device for embarrassing the West with its own inventions; and the action
of men in power, both great and small, continued after the constitution had come into
nominal existence to be exactly what it had been before. The very terms of the
constitution must have been unintelligible to all but those who had been employed at
foreign courts. The Government might as well have announced its intention of clothing
the Balkans with the flora of the deep sea.
In the second week of December the representatives of the six Great Powers assembled
at Constantinople. In order that the demands of Europe should be presented to the Porte
with unanimity, they determined to hold a series of preliminary meetings with one
another before the formal opening of the Conference and before communicating with
the Turks. At these meetings, after Ignatieff had withdrawn his proposal for a Russian
occupation of Bulgaria, complete accord was attained. It was resolved to demand the
cession of certain small districts by the Porte to Servia and Montenegro; the grant of
administrative autonomy to Bosnia, Herzegovina, and Bulgaria; the appointment in
each of these provinces of Christian governors, whose terms of office should be for five
years, and whose nomination should be subject to the approval of the Powers; the
confinement of Turkish troops to the fortresses; the removal of the bands of Circassians
to Asia; and finally the execution of these reforms under the superintendence of an
International Commission, which should have at its disposal a corps of six thousand
gendarmes to be enlisted in Switzerland or Belgium. By these arrangements, while the
Sultan retained his sovereignty and the integrity of the Ottoman Empire remained
unimpaired, it was conceived that the Christian population would be effectively
secured against Turkish violence and caprice.
[The Turks refuse the demands of the Conference, Jan. 20, 1877.]
All differences between the representatives of the European Powers having been
removed, the formal Conference was opened on the 23rd of December under the
presidency of the Turkish Foreign Minister, Savfet Pasha. The proceedings had not
gone far when they were interrupted by the roar of cannon. Savfet explained that the
new Ottoman constitution was being promulgated, and that the salvo which the
members of the Conference heard announced the birth of an era of universal happiness
and prosperity in the Sultan's dominions. It soon appeared that in the presence of this
great panacea there was no place for the reforming efforts of the Christian Powers.
Savfet declared from the first that, whatever concessions might be made on other
points, the Sultan's Government would never consent to the establishment of a Foreign
Commission to superintend the execution of its reforms, nor to the joint action of the
Powers in the appointment of the governors of its provinces. It was in vain argued that
without such foreign control Europe possessed no guarantee that the promises and the
good intentions of the Porte, however gratifying these might be, would be carried into
effect. Savfet replied that by the Treaty of 1856 the Powers had declared the Ottoman
Empire to stand on exactly the same footing as any other great State in Europe, and had
expressly debarred themselves from interfering, under whatever circumstances, with its
internal administration. The position of the Turkish representative at the Conference
was in fact the only logical one. In the Treaty of Paris the Powers had elaborately
pledged themselves to an absurdity; and this Treaty the Turk was never weary of
throwing in their faces. But the situation was not one for lawyers and for the
interpretation of documents. The Conference, after hearing the arguments and the
counter-projects of the Turkish Ministers, after reconsidering its own demands and
modifying these in many important points in deference to Ottoman wishes, adhered to
the demand for a Foreign Commission and for a European control over the appointment
of governors. Midhat, who was now Grand Vizier, summoned the Great Council of the
Empire, and presented to it the demands of the Conference. These demands the Great
Council unanimously rejected. Lord Salisbury had already warned the Sultan what
would be the results of continued obstinacy; and after receiving Midhat's final reply the
ambassadors of all the Powers, together with the envoys who had been specially
appointed for the Conference, quitted Constantinople.
Between the Russian frontier and the Danube lay the Principality of Roumania. A
convention signed before the outbreak of hostilities gave to the Russian army a free
passage through this territory, and Roumania subsequently entered the war as Russia's
ally. It was not, however, until the fourth week of June that the invaders were able to
cross the Danube. Seven army-corps were assembled in Roumania; of these one
crossed the Lower Danube into the Dobrudscha, two were retained in Roumania as a
reserve, and four crossed the river in the neighbourhood of Sistowa, in order to enter
upon the Bulgarian campaign. It was the desire of the Russians to throw forward the
central part of their army by the line of the river Jantra upon the Balkans; with their left
to move against Rustchuk and the Turkish armies in the eastern fortresses of Bulgaria;
with their right to capture Nicopolis, and guard the central column against any flank
The headquarters of the whole Russian army were now at Tirnova, the ancient
Bulgarian capital, about half-way between the Danube and the Balkans. Two
army-corps, commanded by the Czarewitch, moved eastwards against Rustchuk and
the so-called Turkish army of the Danube, which was gathering behind the lines of the
Kara Lom; another division, under General Krudener, turned westward and captured
Nicopolis with its garrison. Lovatz and other points lying westward of the Jantra were
occupied by weak detachments; but so badly were the reconnaissances of the Russians
performed in this direction that they were unaware of the approach of a Turkish army
from Widdin, thirty-five thousand strong, till this was close on their flank. Before the
Russians could prevent him, Osman Pasha, with the vanguard of this army, had
occupied the town and heights of Plevna, between Nicopolis and Lovatz. On the 20th
of July, still unaware of their enemy's strength, the Russians attacked him at Plevna:
they were defeated with considerable loss, and after a few days one of Osman's
divisions, pushing forward upon the invader's central line, drove them out of Lovatz.
The Grand Duke now sent reinforcements to Krudener, and ordered him to take Plevna
at all costs. Krudener's strength was raised to thirty-five thousand; but in the meantime
new Turkish regiments had joined Osman, and his troops, now numbering about fifty
thousand, had been working day and night entrenching themselves in the heights round
Plevna which the Russians had to attack. The assault was made on the 30th of July; it
was beaten back with terrible slaughter, the Russians leaving a fifth of their number on
the field. Had Osman taken up the offensive and the Turkish commander on the Lom
[Roumania.]
After the second battle of Plevna it became clear that the Russians could not carry on
the campaign with their existing forces. Two army-corps were called up which were
guarding the coast of the Black Sea; several others were mobilised in the interior of
Russia, and began their journey towards the Danube. So urgent, however, was the
immediate need, that the Czar was compelled to ask help from Roumania. This help
was given. Roumanian troops, excellent in quality, filled up the gap caused by
Krudener's defeats, and the whole army before Plevna was placed under the command
of the Roumanian Prince Charles. At the beginning of September the Russians were
again ready for action. Lovatz was wrested from the Turks, and the division which had
captured it moved on to Plevna to take part in a great combined attack. This attack was
made on the 11th of September under the eyes of the Czar. On the north the Russians
and Roumanians together, after a desperate struggle, stormed the Grivitza redoubt. On
the south Skobeleff carried the first Turkish position, but could make no impression on
their second line of defence. Twelve thousand men fell on the Russian side before the
day was over, and the main defences of the Turks were still unbroken. On the morrow
the Turks took up the offensive. Skobeleff, exposed to the attack of a far superior foe,
prayed in vain for reinforcements. His men, standing in the positions that they had won
from the Turks, repelled one onslaught after another, but were ultimately overwhelmed
and driven from the field. At the close of the second day's battle the Russians were
everywhere beaten back within their own lines, except at the Grivitza redoubt, which
was itself but an outwork of the Turkish defences, and faced by more formidable works
within. The assailants had sustained a loss approaching that of the Germans at
Gravelotte with an army one-third of the Germans' strength. Osman was stronger than
at the beginning of the campaign; with what sacrifices Russia would have to purchase
its ultimate victory no man could calculate.
The three defeats at Plevna cast a sinister light upon the Russian military administration
and the quality of its chiefs. The soldiers had fought heroically; divisional generals like
Skobeleff had done all that man could do in such positions; the faults were those of the
headquarters and the officers by whom the Imperial Family were surrounded. After the
If in the first stages of the war there was little that did credit to Russia's military
capacity, the energy that marked its close made amends for what had gone before.
Winter was descending in extreme severity: the Balkans were a mass of snow and ice;
but no obstacle could now bar the invader's march. Gourko, in command of an army
that had gathered to the south-west of Plevna, made his way through the mountains
above Etropol in the last days of December, and, driving the Turks from Sophia,
pressed on towards Philippopolis and Adrianople. Farther east two columns crossed the
Balkans by bye-paths right and left of the Shipka Pass, and then, converging on Shipka
itself, fell upon the rear of the Turkish army which still blocked the southern outlet.
Simultaneously a third corps marched down the pass from the north and assailed the
Turks in front. After a fierce struggle the entire Turkish army, thirty-five thousand
strong, laid down its arms. There now remained only one considerable force between
the invaders and Constantinople. This body, which was commanded by Suleiman, held
the road which runs along the valley of the Maritza, at a point somewhat to the east of
Philippopolis. Against it Gourko advanced from the west, while the victors of Shipka,
descending due south through Kesanlik, barred the line of retreat towards Adrianople.
The last encounter of the war took place on the 17th of January. Suleiman's army,
routed and demoralised, succeeded in making its escape to the Ægean coast. Pursuit
was unnecessary, for the war was now practically over. On the 20th of January the
Russians made their entry into Adrianople; in the next few days their advanced guard
touched the Sea of Marmora at Rodosto.
Immediately after the fall of Plevna the Porte had applied to the European Powers for
their mediation. Disasters in Asia had already warned it not to delay submission too
long; for in the middle of October Mukhtar Pasha had been driven from his positions,
and a month later Kars had been taken by storm. The Russians had subsequently
penetrated into Armenia and had captured the outworks of Erzeroum. Each day that
now passed brought the Ottoman Empire nearer to destruction. Servia again declared
war; the Montenegrins made themselves masters of the coast-towns and of
border-territory north and south; Greece seemed likely to enter into the struggle.
Baffled in his attempt to gain the common mediation of the Powers, the Sultan
appealed to the Queen of England personally for her good offices in bringing the
conflict to a close. In reply to a telegram from London, the Czar declared himself
willing to treat for peace as soon as direct communications should be addressed to his
representatives by the Porte. On the 14th of January commissioners were sent to the
headquarters of the Grand Duke Nicholas at Kesanlik to treat for an armistice and for
preliminaries of peace. The Russians, now in the full tide of victory, were in no hurry
to agree with their adversary. Nicholas bade the Turkish envoys accompany him to
Adrianople, and it was not until the 31st of January that the armistice was granted and
the preliminaries of peace signed.
[England.]
While the Turkish envoys were on their journey to the Russian headquarters, the
session of Parliament opened at London. The Ministry had declared at the outbreak of
the war that Great Britain would remain neutral unless its own interests should be
imperilled, and it had defined these interests with due clearness both in its
communications with the Russian Ambassador and in its statements in Parliament. It
was laid down that Her Majesty's Government could not permit the blockade of the
Suez Canal, or the extension of military operations to Egypt; that it could not witness
with indifference the passing of Constantinople into other hands than those of its
present possessors; and that it would entertain serious objections to any material
alterations in the rules made under European sanction for the navigation of the
Bosphorus and Dardanelles. [552] In reply to Lord Derby's note which formulated these
conditions of neutrality Prince Gortschakoff had repeated the Czar's assurance that the
acquisition of Constantinople was excluded from his views, and had promised to
undertake no military operation in Egypt; he had, however, let it be understood that, as
an incident of warfare, the reduction of Constantinople might be necessary like that of
any other capital. In the Queen's speech at the opening of Parliament, Ministers stated
that the conditions on which the neutrality of England was founded had not hitherto
been infringed by either belligerent, but that, should hostilities be prolonged, some
unexpected occurrence might render it necessary to adopt measures of precaution,
measures which could not be adequately prepared without an appeal to the liberality of
Parliament. From language subsequently used by Lord Beaconsfield's colleagues, it
When a victorious army is, without the intervention of some external Power, checked
in its work of conquest by the negotiation of an armistice, it is invariably made a
condition that positions shall be handed over to it which it does not at the moment
occupy, but which it might reasonably expect to have conquered within a certain date,
had hostilities not been suspended. The armistice granted to Austria by Napoleon after
the battle of Marengo involved the evacuation of the whole of Upper Italy; the
armistice which Bismarck offered to the French Government of Defence at the
beginning of the siege of Paris would have involved the surrender of Strasburg and of
Toul. In demanding that the line of demarcation should be carried almost up to the
walls of Constantinople the Russians were asking for no more than would certainly
have been within their hands had hostilities been prolonged for a few weeks, or even
days. Deeply as the conditions of the armistice agitated the English people, it was not
in these conditions, but in the conditions of the peace which was to follow, that the true
cause of contention between England and Russia, if cause there was, had to be found.
Nevertheless, the approach of the Russians to Gallipoli and the lines of Tchataldja,
followed, as it was, by the despatch of the British fleet to Constantinople, brought
Russia and Great Britain within a hair's breadth of war. It was in vain that Lord Derby
described the fleet as sent only for the protection of the lives and property of British
subjects. Gortschakoff, who was superior in amenities of this kind, replied that the
Russian Government had exactly the same end in view, with the distinction that its
protection would be extended to all Christians. Should the British fleet appear at the
The bases of Peace which were made the condition of the armistice granted at
Adrianople formed with little alteration the substance of the Treaty signed by Russia
and Turkey at San Stefano, a village on the Sea of Marmora, on the 3rd of March. By
this Treaty the Porte recognised the independence of Servia, Montenegro, and
Roumania, and made considerable cessions of territory to the two former States.
Bulgaria was constituted an autonomous tributary Principality, with a Christian
Government and a national militia. Its frontier, which was made so extensive as to
include the greater part of European Turkey, was defined as beginning near Midia on
the Black Sea, not sixty miles from the Bosphorus; passing thence westwards just to the
north of Adrianople; descending to the Ægean Sea, and following the coast as far as the
Thracian Chersonese; then passing inland westwards, so as barely to exclude Salonika;
running on to the border of Albania within fifty miles of the Adriatic, and from this
point following the Albanian border up to the new Servian frontier. The Prince of
Bulgaria was to be freely elected by the population, and confirmed by the Porte with
the assent of the Powers; a system of administration was to be drawn up by an
Assembly of Bulgarian notables; and the introduction of the new system into Bulgaria
with the superintendence of its working was to be entrusted for two years to a Russian
Commissioner. Until the native militia was organised, Russian troops, not exceeding
fifty thousand in number, were to occupy the country; this occupation, however, was to
be limited to a term approximating to two years. In Bosnia and Herzegovina the
proposals laid before the Porte at the first sitting of the Conference of 1876 were to be
immediately introduced, subject to such modifications as might be agreed upon
between Turkey, Russia, and Austria. The Porte undertook to apply scrupulously in
Crete the Organic Law which had been drawn up in 1868, taking into account the
previously expressed wishes of the native population. An analogous law, adapted to
local requirements, was, after being communicated to the Czar, to be introduced into
Epirus, Thessaly, and the other parts of Turkey in Europe for which a special
constitution was not provided by the Treaty. Commissions, in which the native
population was to be largely represented, were in each province to be entrusted with the
task of elaborating the details of the new organisation. In Armenia the Sultan undertook
to carry into effect without further delay the improvements and reforms demanded by
local requirements, and to guarantee the security of the Armenians from Kurds and
Circassians. As an indemnity for the losses and expenses of the war the Porte admitted
itself to be indebted to Russia in the sum of fourteen hundred million roubles; but in
accordance with the wishes of the Sultan, and in consideration of the financial
embarrassments of Turkey, the Czar consented to accept in substitution for the greater
part of this sum the cession of the Dobrudscha in Europe, and of the districts of
Ardahan, Kars, Batoum, and Bayazid in Asia. As to the balance of three hundred
million roubles left due to Russia, the mode of payment or guarantee was to be settled
by an understanding between the two Governments. The Dobrudscha was to be given
by the Czar to Roumania in exchange for Bessarabia, which this State was to transfer to
Russia. The complete evacuation of Turkey in Europe was to take place within three
months, that of Turkey in Asia within six months, from the conclusion of peace. [554]
[Congress proposed.]
It had from the first been admitted by the Russian Government that questions affecting
the interests of Europe at large could not be settled by a Treaty between Russia and
Turkey alone, but must form the subject of European agreement. Early in February the
Emperor of Austria had proposed that a European Conference should assemble at his
own capital. It was subsequently agreed that Berlin, instead of Vienna, should be the
place of meeting, and instead of a Conference a Congress should be held, that is, an
international assembly of the most solemn form, in which each of the Powers is
represented not merely by an ambassador or an envoy, but by its leading Ministers. But
the question at once arose whether there existed in the mind of the Russian
Government a distinction between parts of the Treaty of San Stefano bearing on the
interests of Europe generally and parts which affected no States but Russia and Turkey;
and whether, in this case, Russia was willing that Europe should be the judge of the
distinction, or, on the contrary, claimed for itself the right of withholding portions of
the Treaty from the cognisance of the European Court. In accepting the principle of a
Congress, Lord Derby on behalf of Great Britain made it a condition that every article
of the Treaty without exception should be laid before the Congress, not necessarily as
requiring the concurrence of the Powers, but in order that the Powers themselves might
in each case decide whether their concurrence was necessary or not. To this demand
Prince Gortschakoff offered the most strenuous resistance, claiming for Russia the
liberty of accepting, or not accepting, the discussion of any question that might be
raised. It would clearly have been in the power of the Russian Government, had this
condition been granted, to exclude from the consideration of Europe precisely those
matters which in the opinion of other States were most essentially of European import.
Phrases of conciliation were suggested; but no ingenuity of language could shade over
the difference of purpose which separated the rival Powers. Every day the chances of
the meeting of the Congress seemed to be diminishing, the approach of war between
Russia and Great Britain more unmistakable. Lord Beaconsfield called out the
Reserves and summoned troops from India; even the project of seizing a port in Asia
Minor in case the Sultan should fall under Russian influence was discussed in the
Cabinet. Unable to reconcile himself to these vigorous measures, Lord Derby, who had
long been at variance with the Premier, now finally withdrew from the Cabinet (March
28). He was succeeded in his office by the Marquis of Salisbury, whose comparison of
his relative and predecessor to Titus Oates revived the interest of the diplomatic world
in a now forgotten period of English history.
The new Foreign Secretary had not been many days in office when a Circular,
despatched to all the Foreign Courts, summed up the objections of Great Britain to the
Treaty of San Stefano. It was pointed out that a strong Slavic State would be created
under the control of Russia, possessing important harbours upon the shores of the
[Count Schouvaloff.]
[Cyprus.]
It was the object of Lord Salisbury to show that the effects of the Treaty of San
Stefano, taken in a mass, threatened the peace and the interests of Europe, and
therefore, whatever might be advanced for or against individual stipulations of the
Treaty, that the Treaty as a whole, and not clauses selected by one Power, must be
submitted to the Congress if the examination was not to prove illusory. This was a just
line of argument. Nevertheless it was natural to suppose that some parts of the Treaty
must be more distasteful than others to Great Britain; and Count Schouvaloff, who was
sincerely desirous of peace, applied himself to the task of discovering with what
concessions Lord Beaconsfield's Cabinet would be satisfied. He found that if Russia
would consent to modifications of the Treaty in Congress excluding Bulgaria from the
Aegean Sea, reducing its area on the south and west, dividing it into two provinces, and
restoring the Balkans to the Sultan as a military frontier, giving back Bayazid to the
Turks, and granting to other Powers besides Russia a voice in the organisation of
Epirus, Thessaly, and the other Christian provinces of the Porte, England might be
induced to accept without essential change the other provisions of San Stefano. On the
7th of May Count Schouvaloff quitted London for St. Petersburg, in order to lay before
the Czar the results of his communications with the Cabinet, and to acquaint him with
the state of public opinion in England. On his journey hung the issues of peace or war.
Backed by the counsels of the German Emperor, Schouvaloff succeeded in his mission.
The Czar determined not to risk the great results already secured by insisting on the
points contested, and Schouvaloff returned to London authorised to conclude a pact
with the British Government on the general basis which had been laid down. On the
30th of May a secret agreement, in which the above were the principal points, was
signed, and the meeting of the Congress for the examination of the entire Treaty of San
Stefano was now assured. But it was not without the deepest anxiety and regret that
Lord Beaconsfield consented to the annexation of Batoum and the Armenian fortresses.
He obtained indeed an assurance in the secret agreement with Schouvaloff that the
Russian frontier should be no more extended on the side of Turkey in Asia; but his
policy did not stop short here. By a Convention made with the Sultan on the 4th of
June, Great Britain engaged, in the event of any further aggression by Russia upon the
Asiatic territories of the Sultan, to defend these territories by force of arms. The Sultan
in return promised to introduce the necessary reforms, to be agreed upon by the two
Powers, for the protection of the Christian and other subjects of the Porte in these
territories, and further assigned the Island of Cyprus to be occupied and administered
by England. It was stipulated by a humorous after-clause that if Russia should restore
to Turkey its Armenian conquests, Cyprus would be evacuated by England, and the
Convention itself should be at an end. [555]
The Congress of Berlin, at which the Premier himself and Lord Salisbury represented
Great Britain, opened on the 13th of June. Though the compromise between England
and Russia had been settled in general terms, the arrangement of details opened such a
series of difficulties that the Congress seemed more than once on the point of breaking
up. It was mainly due to the perseverance and wisdom of Prince Bismarck, who
transferred the discussion of the most crucial points from the Congress to private
meetings of his guests, and who himself acted as conciliator when Gortschakoff folded
up his maps or Lord Beaconsfield ordered a special train, that the work was at length
achieved. The Treaty of Berlin, signed on the 13th of July, confined Bulgaria, as an
autonomous Principality, to the country north of the Balkans, and diminished the
authority which, pending the establishment of its definitive system of government,
would by the Treaty of San Stefano have belonged to a Russian commissioner. The
portion of Bulgaria south of the Balkans, but extending no farther west than the valley
of the Maritza, and no farther south than Mount Rhodope, was formed into a Province
of East Roumelia, to remain subject to the direct political and military authority of the
Sultan, under conditions of administrative autonomy. The Sultan was declared to
possess the right of erecting fortifications both on the coast and on the land-frontier of
this province, and of maintaining troops there. Alike in Bulgaria and in Eastern
Roumelia the period of occupation by Russian troops was limited to nine months.
Bosnia and Herzegovina were handed over to Austria, to be occupied and administered
by that Power. The cessions of territory made to Servia and Montenegro in the Treaty
of San Stefano were modified with the object of interposing a broader strip between
these two States; Bayazid was omitted from the ceded districts in Asia, and the Czar
declared it his intention to erect Batoum into a free port, essentially commercial. At the
instance of France the provisions relating to the Greek Provinces of Turkey were
superseded by a vote in favour of the cession of part of these Provinces to the Hellenic
Kingdom. The Sultan was recommended to cede Thessaly and part of Epirus to Greece,
the Powers reserving to themselves the right of offering their mediation to facilitate the
negotiations. In other respects the provisions of the Treaty of San Stefano were
confirmed without substantial change.
Lord Beaconsfield returned to London, bringing, as he said, peace with honour. It was
claimed, in the despatch to our Ambassadors which accompanied the publication of the
Treaty of Berlin, that in this Treaty the cardinal objections raised by the British
[1]
[2]
[3]
[4]
[5]
[6]
[7]
[8]
[9]
[10]
[11]
[12]
[13]
[14]
"The connection with the House of Austria and the present undertaking
continue to be very unpopular. It is openly said that one half of the
[15]
[16]
[17]
[18]
[19]
[20]
[21]
[22]
"The very night the news of the late Emperor's (Leopold's) death
arrived here (Brussels), inflammatory advertisements and invitations to
arm were distributed." One culprit "belonged to the Choir of St.
Gudule: he chose the middle of the day, and in the presence of many
people posted up a paper in the church, exhorting to a general
insurrection. The remainder of this strange production was the
description of a vision he pretended to have seen, representing the soul
of the late emperor on its way to join that of Joseph, already suffering
in the other world." Col. Gardiner, March 20, 1792. Records: Flanders,
vol. 220.
[23]
Elgin, from Brussels, Nov. 6. "A brisk cannonade has been heard this
whole forenoon in the direction of Mons. It is at this moment
[24]
[25]
[26]
[27]
[28]
[29]
"The King of Prussia has been educated in the persuasion that the
execution of that exchange involves the ruin of his family, and he is the
more sore about it that by the qualified consent which he has given to
its taking place he has precluded himself from opposing it by arms.
Accordingly, every idle story which arrives from Munich which tends
to revive this apprehension makes an impression which I am unable, at
the first moment, to efface." Lord Yarmouth, from the Prussian camp,
Aug. 12, 1793, Records: Army in Germany, 437. "Marquis Lucchesini,
the effectual director, is desirous of avoiding every expense and every
exertion of the troops; of leaving the whole burden of the war on
Austria and the other combined Powers; and of seeing difficulties
multiply in the arrangements which the Court of Vienna may wish to
form I do not perceive any object beyond this; no desire of diminishing
the power of France; no system or feeling for crushing the opinions,
the doctrines, of that country." Elgin, May 17. Records: Flanders, vol.
223.
[30]
[31]
[32]
[33]
The English Government found that Thugut was from the first
indifferent to their own aim, the restoration of the Bourbons, or
establishment of some orderly government in France. In so far as he
concerned himself with the internal affairs of France, he hoped rather
for continued dissension, as facilitating the annexation of French
territory by Austria. "Qu'on profite de ce conflit des partis en France
pour tâcher de se rendre mâitre des forteresses, afin de faire la loi au
[34]
[35]
[36]
Elgin reports after this engagement, May 1st, 1794-"The French army
appears to continue much what it has hitherto been, vigorous and
persevering where (as in villages and woods) the local advantages are
of a nature to supply the defects of military science; weak and helpless
beyond belief where cavalry can act, and manoeuvres are possible....
The magazines of the army are stored, and the provisions regularly
given out to the troops, and good in quality. Indeed, it is singular to
observe in all the villages where we have been forward forage, etc., in
plenty, and all the country cultivated as usual. The inhabitants,
however, have retired with the French army; and to that degree that the
tract we have lately taken possession of is absolutely deserted.... The
execution of Danton has produced no greater effect in the army than
other executions, and we have found many papers on those who fell in
the late actions treating it with ridicule, and as a source of joy."
Records: Flanders, 226. "I am in hopes to hear from you on the subject
of the French prisoners, as to where I am to apply for the money I
advance for their subsistence. They are a great number of them almost
naked, some entirely so. It is absolutely shocking to humanity to see
them. I would purchase some coarse clothing for those that are in the
worst state, but know not how far I should be authorised. They are
mostly old men and boys." Consul Harward, at Ostend, March 4th, id.
[37]
These events are the subject of controversy. See Hüffer, Oestreich und
Preussen, p. 62 Von Sybel, iii. 138. Vivenot, Clerfayt, p. 38. The old
belief, defended by Von Sybel, was that Thugut himself had
determined upon the evacuation of Belgium, and treacherously
deprived Coburg of forces for its defence. But, apart from other
[38]
"Should the French come they will find this town perfectly empty.
Except my own, I do not think there are three houses in Ostend with a
bed in them. So general a panic I never witnessed." June 30th.-"To
remain here alone would be a wanton sacrifice. God knows 'tis an
awful stroke to me to leave a place just as I began to be comfortably
settled." Consul Harward: Records: Army in Germany, vol. 440. "All
the English are arrested in Ostend; the men are confined in the
Capuchin convent, and the women in the Convent des Soeurs Blancs.
All the Flamands from the age of 17 to 32 are forced to go for soldiers.
At Bruges the French issued an order for 800 men to present
themselves. Thirty only came, in consequence of which they rang a
bell on the Grand Place, and the inhabitants thinking that it was some
ordinance, quitted their houses to hear it, when they were surrounded
by the French soldiers, and upwards of 1,000 men secured, gentle and
simple, who were all immediately set to work on the canals." Mr. W.
Poppleton, Flushing, Sept. 4. Records: Flanders, vol. 227.
[39]
Malmesbury, ii. 125. Von Sybel, iii. 168. Grenville made Coburg's
dismissal a sine qua non of the continuance of English co-operation.
Instructions to Lord Spencer, July 19, 1794. Records: Austria, 36. But
for the Austrian complaints against the English, see Vivenot, Clerfayt,
p. 50.
[40]
[41]
Vivenot, Herzog Albrecht, iii. 59, 512. Martens, Recueil des Traités,
vi. 45, 52. Hardenberg, i. 287. Vivenot, Clerfayt, p. 32. "Le Roi de
Prusse," wrote the Empress Catherine, "est une méchante bête et un
[42]
The British Government had formed the most sanguine estimate of the
strength of the Royalist movement in France. "I cannot let your servant
return without troubling you with these few lines to conjure you to use
every possible effort to give life and vigour to the Austrian
Government at this critical moment. Strongly as I have spoken in my
despatch of the present state of France, I have said much less than my
information, drawn from various quarters, and applying to almost
every part of France, would fairly warrant. We can never hope that the
circumstances, as far as they regard the state of France, can be more
favourable than they now are. For God's sake enforce these points with
all the earnestness which I am sure you will feel upon them." Grenville
to Eden, April 17, 1795; Records: Austria, vol. 41. After the failure of
the expedition, the British Government made the grave charge against
Thugut that while he was officially sending Clerfayt pressing orders to
advance, he secretly told him to do nothing. "It is in vain to reason
with the Austrian Ministers on the folly and ill faith of a system which
they have been under the necessity of concealing from you, and which
they will probably endeavour to disguise" Grenville to Eden, Oct.,
1795; id., vol. 43. This charge, repeated by historians, is disproved by
Thugut's private letters. Briefe, i. 221, seq. No one more bitterly
resented Clerfayt's inaction.
[43]
[44]
[45]
[46]
[47]
[48]
[49]
[50]
[51]
[52]
[53]
[54]
[55]
[56]
Wurmser had orders to break out southwards into the Papal States.
"These orders he (Thugut) knew had reached the Marshal, but they
were also known to the enemy, as a cadet of Strasoldo's regiment, who
was carrying the duplicate, had been taken prisoner, and having been
seen to swallow a ball of wax, in which the order was wrapped up, he
was immediately put to death and the paper taken out of his stomach."
Eden, Jan., 1797; Records: Austria, vol. 48. Colonel Graham, who had
been shut up in Mantua since Sept. 10, escaped on Dec 17, and
restored communication between Wurmser and Allvintzy. He was
present at the battle of Rivoli, which is described in his despatches.
[57]
"We expect every hour to hear of the entry of the Neapolitan troops
and the declaration of a religious war. Every preparation has been
made for such an event." Graves to Lord Grenville, Oct. 1, 1796;
Records; Rome, vol. 56.
[58]
"The clamours for peace have become loud and importunate. His
Imperial Majesty is constantly assailed by all his Ministers, M. de
Thugut alone excepted, and by all who approach his person. Attempts
are even made to alarm him with a dread of insurrection. In the midst
of these calamities M. de Thugut retains his firmness of mind, and
[59]
[60]
[61]
Martens, Traités, vi. 420; Thugut, Briefe, ii. 64. These letters breathe a
fire and passion rare among German statesmen of that day, and show
the fine side of Thugut's character. The well-known story of the
destruction of Cobenzl's vase by Bonaparte at the last sitting, with the
words, "Thus will I dash the Austrian Monarchy to pieces," is
mythical. Cobenzl's own account of the scene is as
follows;-"Bonaparte, excited by not having slept for two nights,
emptied glass after glass of punch. When I explained with the greatest
composure, Bonaparte started up in a violent rage, and poured out a
flood of abuse, at the same time scratching his name illegibly at the
foot of the statement which he had handed in as protocol. Then without
waiting for our signatures, he put on his hat in the conference-room
itself, and left us. Until he was in the street he continued to vociferate
in a manner that could only be ascribed to intoxication, though Clarke
and the rest of his suite, who were waiting in the hall, did their best to
restrain him." "He behaved as if he had escaped from a lunatic asylum.
His own people are all agreed about this." Hüffer, Oestreich und
Preussen, p. 453.
[62]
[63]
"Tout annonce qu'il sera de toute impossibilité de finir avec ces gueux
de Français autrement que par moyens de fermeté." Thugut, ii. 105.
For the negotiation at Seltz, see Historische Zeitschrift, xxiii. 27.
[64]
Botta, lib. xiii. Letters of Mr. J. Denham and others in Records: Sicily,
vol. 44.
[65]
[66]
[67]
[68]
Sir W. Hamilton's despatch, Nov. 28, in Records: Sicily, vol. 44, where
there are originals of most of the Neapolitan proclamations, etc., of this
time. Mack had been a famous character since the campaign of 1793.
Elgin's letters to Lord Grenville from the Netherlands, private as well
as public, are full of extravagant praise of him. In July, 1796, Graham
writes from the Italian army: "In the opinion of all here, the greatest
[69]
[70]
[71]
[72]
[73]
[74]
Castlereagh, iv.; Records: Austria, 56. Lord Minto had just succeeded
Sir Morton Eden as ambassador. The English Government was willing
to grant the House of Hapsburg almost anything for the sake "of
strengthening that barrier which the military means and resources of
Vienna can alone oppose against the future enterprises of France."
Grenville to Minto, May 13, 1800. Though they felt some regard for
the rights of the King of Piedmont, Pitt and Grenville were just as
ready to hand over the Republic of Genoa to the Hapsburgs as
Bonaparte had been to hand over Venice; in fact, they looked forward
to the destruction of the Genoese State with avowed pleasure, because
it easily fell under the influence of France. Their principal anxiety was
that if Austria "should retain Venice and Genoa and possibly acquire
Leghorn," it should grant England an advantageous commercial treaty.
Grenville to Minto, Feb. 8, 1800; Castlereagh, v. 3-11.
[75]
[76]
Miliutin, 2, 20, 3, 186; Minto, Aug. 10, 1799; Records: Austria, vol.
56. "I had no sooner mentioned this topic (Piedmont) than I perceived I
had touched a very delicate point. M. de Thugut's manner changed
instantly from that of coolness and civility to a great show of warmth
attended with some sharpness. He became immediately loud and
animated, and expressed chagrin at the invitation sent to the King of
Sardinia.... He considers the conquest of Piedmont as one made by
Austria of an enemy's country. He denies that the King of Sardinia can
be considered as an ally or as a friend, or even as a neuter; and, besides
imputing a thousand instances of ill-faith to that Court, relies on the
actual alliance made by it with the French Republic by which the King
of Sardinia had appropriated to himself part of the Emperor's
dominions in Lombardy, an offence which, I perceive, will not be
easily forgotten.... I mention these circumstances to show the degree of
passion which the Court of Vienna mixes with this discussion." Minto
answered Thugut's invective with the odd remark "that perhaps in the
present extraordinary period the most rational object of this war was to
restore the integrity of the moral principle both in civil and political
life, and that this principle of justice should take the lead in his mind of
those considerations of temporary convenience which in ordinary times
might not have escaped his notice." Thugut then said "that the Emperor
of Russia had desisted from his measure of the King of Sardinia's
immediate recall, leaving the time of that return to the Emperor." On
the margin of the despatch, against this sentence, is written in pencil, in
Lord Grenville's handwriting, "I am persuaded this is not true."
[77]
[78]
Thugut's territorial policy did actually make him propose to abolish the
Papacy not only as a temporal Power, but as a religious institution.
"Baron Thugut argued strongly on the possibility of doing without a
Pope, and of each sovereign taking on himself the function of head of
the National Church, as in England. I said that as a Protestant, I could
not be supposed to think the authority of the Bishop of Rome
[79]
Miliutin, iii. 37; Bentinck, Aug. 16, from the battle-field; Records:
Italian States, vol. 58. His letter ends "I must apologise to your
Lordship for the appearance of this despatch" (it is on thin Italian paper
and almost illegible): "we" (i.e., Suvaroff's staff) "have had the
misfortune to have had our baggage plundered by the Cossacks."
[80]
[81]
[82]
[83]
[84]
[85]
[86]
[87]
Thugut, Briefe ii. 227, 281, 393; Minto's despatch, Sept. 24, 1800;
Records: Austria, vol. 60. "The Emperor was in the act of receiving a
considerable subsidy for a vigorous prosecution of the war at the very
moment when he was clandestinely and in person making the most
abject submission to the common enemy. Baron Thugut was all
yesterday under the greatest uneasiness concerning the event which he
had reason to apprehend, but which was not yet certain. He still
retained, however, a slight hope, from the apparent impossibility of
anyone's committing such an act of infamy and folly. I never saw him
or any other man so affected as he was when he communicated this
transaction to me to-day. I said that these fortresses being demanded as
pledges of sincerity, the Emperor should have given on the same
principle the arms and ammunition of the army. Baron Thugut added
that after giving up the soldiers' muskets, the clothes would be required
[88]
[89]
Koch und Schoell, Histoire des Traités, vi. 6. Nelson Despatches, iv.
299.
[90]
[91]
[92]
Gagern, Mein Antheil, i. 119. He protests that he never carried the dog.
The waltz was introduced about this time at Paris by Frenchmen
returning from Germany, which gave occasion to the mot that the
French had annexed even the national dance of the Germans.
[93]
[94]
Koch und Schoell, vi. 247. Beer, Zehn Jahre Oesterreichischer Politik,
p. 35 Häusser, ii. 398.
[95]
[96]
[97]
[98]
The first hand account of the formation of the Code Napoleon, with the
Procès Verbal of the Council of State and the principal reports,
speeches, etc., made in the Tribunate and the Legislative Bodies, is to
be found in the work of Baron Locré, "La Legislation de la France,"
published at Paris in 1827. Locré was Secretary of the Council of State
under the Consulate and the Empire, and possessed a quantity of
records which had not been published before 1827. The Procès Verbal,
though perhaps not always faithful, contains the only record of
Napoleon's own share in the discussions of the Council of State.
[99]
[100]
[101]
[102]
"The King and his Ministers are in the greatest distress and
embarrassment. The latter do not hesitate to avow it, and the King has
for the last week shown such evident symptoms of dejection that the
least observant could not but remark it. He has expressed himself most
feelingly upon the unfortunate predicament in which he finds himself.
He would welcome the hand that should assist him and the voice that
should give him courage to extricate himself."-F. Jackson's despatch
from Berlin, May 16, 1803; Records; Prussia, vol. 189.
[103]
Häusser ii. 472. There are interesting accounts of Lombard and the
other leading persons of Berlin in F. Jackson's despatches of this date.
The charge of gross personal immorality made against Lombard is
brought against almost every German public man of the time in the
writings of opponents. History and politics are, however, a bad tribunal
of private character.
[104]
Fournier, Gentz und Cobenzl, p. 79. Beer, Zehn Jahre, p. 49. The
despatches of Sir J. Warren of this date from St. Petersburg (Records:
Russia, vol. 175) are full of plans for meeting an expected invasion of
the Morea and the possible liberation of the Greeks by Bonaparte.
They give the impression that Eastern affairs were really the dominant
interest with Alexander in his breach with France.
[105]
[106]
[107]
[108]
[109]
[110]
Gentz, Schriften, iii. 60, Beer, 132, 141. Fournier, 104. Springer, i. 64.
[111]
[112]
[113]
"The reports from General Mack are of the most satisfactory nature,
and the apprehensions which were at one time entertained from the
immense force which Bonaparte is bringing into Germany gradually
decrease."-Sir A. Paget's Despatch from Vienna, Sept, 18; Records:
Austria, vol. 75.
[114]
[115]
Hardenberg, ii. 268. Jackson, Oct. 7. Records: Prussia, vol. 195. "The
intelligence was received yesterday at Potsdam, while M. de
Hardenberg was with the King of Prussia. His Prussian Majesty was
very violently affected by it, and in the first moment of anger ordered
M. de Hardenberg to return to Berlin and immediately to dismiss the
French ambassador. After a little reflection, however, he said that that
measure should be postponed."
[116]
[117]
[118]
Hardenberg, ii. 345, Haugwitz had just become joint Foreign Minister
with Hardenberg.
[119]
[120]
[121]
[122]
[123]
[124]
[Transcriber's Note: A corner had been torn from the page in our print copy. A [***]
sometimes indicates several missing words.]
[125]
[126]
[127]
[128]
"An order has been issued to the officers of the garrison of Berlin to
abstain, under severe penalties, from speaking of the state of public
affairs. This order was given in consequence of the very general and
loud expressions of dissatisfaction which issued from all classes of
people, but particularly from the military, at the recent conduct of the
Government; for it has been in contemplation to publish an edict
prohibiting the public at large from discussing questions of state
policy. The experience of a very few days must convince the authors of
this measure of the reverse of their expectation, the satires and
sarcasms upon their conduct having become more universal than
before."-Jackson's Despatch, March 22, id. "On Thursday night the
windows of Count Haugwitz' house were completely demolished by
some unknown person. As carbine bullets were chiefly made use of for
the purpose, it is suspected to have been done by some of the garrison.
The same thing had happened some nights before, but the Count took
no notice of it. Now a party of the police patrol the street"-Id., April
27.
[129]
[130]
[131]
A list of all Prussian officers in 1806 of and above the rank of major is
given in Henckel von Donnersmarck, Erinnerungen, with their years of
service. The average of a colonel's service is 42 years; of a major's, 35.
[132]
[133]
[134]
"Count Stein, the only man of real talents in the administration, has
resigned or was dismissed. He is a considerable man, of great energy,
character, and superiority of mind, who possessed the public esteem in
a high degree, and, I have no doubt, deserved it.... During the
negotiation for an armistice, the expenses of Bonaparte's table and
household at Berlin were defrayed by the King of Prussia. Since that
period one of the Ministers called upon Stein, who was the chief of the
finances, to pay 300,000 crowns on the same account. Stein refused
with strong expressions of indignation. The King spoke to him: he
remonstrated with his Majesty in the most forcible terms, descanted on
the wretched humiliation of such mean conduct, and said that he never
could pay money on such an account unless he had the order in writing
from his Majesty. This order was given a few days after the
conversation."-Hutchinson's Despatch, Jan. 1, 1807; Records: Prussia,
vol. 200.
[135]
[136]
"It is still doubtful who commands, and whether Kamensky has or has
not given up the command. I wrote to him on the first moment of my
arrival, but have received no answer from him. On the 23rd, the day of
the first attack, he took off his coat and waistcoat, put all his stars and
ribbons over his shirt, and ran about the streets of Pultusk encouraging
the soldiers, over whom he is said to have great influence."-Lord
Hutchinson's Despatch, Jan. 1, 1807; Records: Prussia, vol. 200.
[137]
[138]
For the Whig foreign policy, see Adair, p. 11-13. Its principle was to
relinquish the attempt to raise coalitions of half-hearted Governments
against France by means of British subsidies, but to give help to States
which of their own free will entered into war with Napoleon.
[139]
[140]
[141]
[142]
[143]
Cevallos, p. 73.
[144]
[145]
[146]
[147]
[148]
Baumgarten, i. 242.
[149]
[150]
[151]
[152]
Baumgarten i. 311.
[153]
[154]
[155]
[156]
[157]
[158]
[159]
[160]
[161]
Wellington Despatches, iv. 533. Sup. Desp. vi. 319, Napier, ii. 357.
[162]
[163]
[164]
[165]
[166]
[167]
[168]
[169]
Hardenberg (Ranke), iv. 268. Häusser, iii. 535. Seeley, ii. 447.
[170]
[171]
Metternich, i. 122.
[172]
[173]
[174]
[175]
[176]
[177]
Martens, N.R., III. 234. British and Foreign State Papers (Hertslet), i.
49.
[178]
[179]
For the difference between the old and the new officers, see
Correspondance de Napoléon, 27 Avril, 1813.
[180]
[181]
July 1, July 17, Aug. 4; to Maret, July 8; to Daru, July 17; to Berthier,
July 23; to Davoust, July 24, Aug. 5; to Ney, Aug. 4, Aug. 12. The
statement of Napoleon's error as to the strength of the Austrian force is
confirmed by Metternich, i. 150.
[182]
Oncken, i. 80.
[183]
[184]
Metternich, i. 163.
[185]
[186]
[187]
"Your lordship has only to recollect the four days' continued fighting at
Leipzig, followed by fourteen days' forced marches in the worst
weather, in order to understand the reasons that made some repose
absolutely necessary. The total loss of the Austrians alone, since the
10th of August, at the time of our arrival at Frankfort, was 80,000 men.
We were entirely unprovided with heavy artillery, the nearest battery
train not having advanced further than the frontiers of Bohemia." It
was thought for a moment that the gates of Strasburg and Huningen
might be opened by bribery, and the Austrian Government authorised
the expenditure of a million florins for this purpose; in that case the
march into Switzerland would have been abandoned. The bribing plan,
however, broke down.-Lord Aberdeen's despatches, Nov. 24, Dec. 25,
1813. Records; Austria, 107.
[188]
[189]
[190]
[191]
[192]
Lord W. Bentinck, who was with Murat, warned him against the
probable consequences of his duplicity. Bentinck had, however, to be
careful in his language, as the following shows. Murat having sent him
a sword of honour, he wrote to the English Government, May 1, 1814:
"It is a severe violence to my feelings to incur any degree of obligation
to an individual whom I so entirely despise. But I feel it my duty not to
betray any appearance of a spirit of animosity." To Murat he wrote on
the same day: "The sword of a great captain is the most flattering
present which a soldier can receive. It is with the highest gratitude that
I accept the gift, Sire, which you have done me the honour to
send."-Records: Sicily, Vol. 98.
[193]
[194]
[195]
Castlereagh, x. 18.
[196]
[197]
[198]
[199]
[200]
[201]
Baumgarten, Geschichte Spaniens, ii. 30, Wellington, D., xii. 27; S. D.,
ix. 17.
[202]
[203]
[204]
Moniteur, 5 Juin. British and Foreign State Papers, 1812-14, ii. 960.
[205]
The payment of £13 per annum in direct taxes. No one could be elected
who did not pay £40 per annum in direct taxes,-so large a sum, that the
Charta provided for the case of there not being fifty persons in a
department eligible.
[206]
[207]
[208]
[209]
[210]
[211]
[212]
[213]
[214]
[215]
[216]
[217]
Wellington, S.D., ix. 331. Talleyrand, pp. 59, 82, 85, 109. Klüber, vii.
21.
[218]
British and Foreign State Papers, 1814-15, p. 814. Klüber, vii. 61.
[219]
Talleyrand, p. 281.
[220]
[221]
Castlereagh did not contradict them. Records: Cont., vol. 10, Jan. 8.
[222]
British and Foreign State Papers, 1814-15, p. 642. Seeley's Stein, iii.
303. Talleyrand, Preface, p. 18.
[223]
Chiefly, but not altogether, because Napoleon's war with England had
ruined the trade of the ports. See the report of Marshal Brune, in
Daudet, La Terreur Blanche, p. 173, and the striking picture of
Marseilles in Thiers, xviii. 340, drawn from his own early
recollections. Bordeaux was Royalist for the same reason.
[224]
[225]
[226]
[227]
i.e., Because he had abused his liberty. On Ney's trial two courtiers
alleged that Ney said he "would bring back Napoleon in an iron cage."
Ney contradicted, them. Procès de Ney, ii. 105, 113.
[228]
[229]
[230]
British and Foreign State Papers, 1814-15, ii. 275. Castlereagh, ix. 512,
Wellington, S.D., ix. 244. Records: Continent, vol. 12, Feb. 26.
[231]
[232]
[233]
[234]
[235]
[236]
"I have got an infamous army, very weak and ill-equipped, and a very
inexperienced staff." (Despatches, xii. 358.) So, even after his victory,
he writes:-"I really believe that, with the exception of my old Spanish
infantry, I have got not only the worst troops but the worst-equipped
army, with the worst staff that was ever brought together."
(Despatches, xii. 509.)
[237]
[238]
[239]
[240]
[241]
[242]
B. and F State Papers, 1815-16, iii. 201. The second article is the most
characteristic:-"Les trois Princes ... confessant que la nation Chrétienne
dont eux et leurs peuples font partie n'a réellement d'autre Souverain
que celui à qui seul appartient en propriété la puissance ... c'est-à-dire
Dieu notre Divin Sauveur Jésus Christ, le Verbe du Très Haut, la
parole de vie: leurs Majestés recommandent ... à leurs peuples ... de se
fortifier chaque jour davantage dans les principes et l'exercice des
devoirs que le Divin Sauveur a enseignés aux hommes."
[243]
Wellington, S.D., xi. 175. The account which Castlereagh gives of the
Czar's longing for universal peace appears to refute the theory that
Alexander had some idea of an attack upon Turkey in thus uniting
Christendom. According to Castlereagh, Metternich also thought that
"it was quite clear that the Czar's mind was affected," but for the
singular reason that "peace and goodwill engrossed all his thoughts,
and that he had found him of late friendly and reasonable on all points"
(Id.) There was, however, a strong popular impression at this time that
Alexander was on the point of invading Turkey. (Gentz, D.I., i. 197.)
[244]
B. and F. State Papers, 1815-16, iii. 273. Records; Continent, vol. 30.
[245]
[246]
[247]
In the first draft of the secret clauses of the Treaty of June 14, 1800,
between England and Austria (see p. 150), Austria was to have had
Genoa. But the fear arising that Russia would not permit Austria's
extension to the Mediterranean, an alteration was made, whereby
Austria was promised half of Piedmont, Genoa to go to the King of
Sardinia in compensation.
[248]
[249]
Talleyrand, p. 277.
[250]
[251]
[252]
[253]
[254]
In Moravia. For the system of espionage, see the book called "Carte
segrete della polizia Austriaca," consisting of police-reports which fell
into the hands of the Italians at Milan in 1848.
[255]
[256]
[257]
See the passages from Grenville's letters quoted in pp. 125, 126 of this
work.
[258]
Castlereagh, x. 18. "The danger is that the transition" (to liberty) "may
be too sudden to ripen into anything likely to make the world better or
happier.... I am sure it is better to retard than accelerate the operation
of this most hazardous principle which is abroad."
[259]
[260]
Castlereagh, x. 25.
[261]
"If his Majesty announces his determination to give effect to the main
principles of a constitutional régime, it is possible that he may
extinguish the existing arrangement with impunity, and re-establish
one more consistent with the efficiency of the executive power, and
which may restore the great landed proprietors and the clergy to a due
share of authority." Castlereagh, id.
[262]
[263]
[264]
[265]
[266]
[267]
Ney was not, however, a mere fighting general. The Military Studies
published in English in 1833 from his manuscripts prove this. They
abound in acute remarks, and his estimate of the quality of the German
soldier, at a time when the Germans were habitually beaten and
despised, is very striking. He urges that when French infantry fight in
three ranks, the charge should be made after the two front ranks have
fired, without waiting for the third to fire. "The German soldier,
formed by the severest discipline, is cooler than any other. He would in
the end obtain the advantage in this kind of firing if it lasted long." (P.
100.) Ney's parents appear to have been Würtemberg people who had
settled in Alsace. The name was really Neu (New).
[268]
[269]
[270]
[272]
See, e.g., the Pétition aux Deux Chambres, 1816, at the beginning of
P.L. Courier's works.
[273]
[274]
[275]
[276]
[277]
[278]
[279]
[280]
[281]
[282]
[283]
[284]
[285]
Gentz, D.I., i. 400. Gentz, the confidant and adviser of Metternich, was
secretary to the Conference at Aix-la-Chapelle. His account of it in this
despatch is of the greatest value, bringing out in a way in which no
official documents do the conservative and repressive tone of the
Conference. The prevalent fear had been that Alexander would break
with his old Allies and make a separate league with France and Spain.
See also Castlereagh, xii. 47.
[286]
"I could write you a long letter about the honour which the Prussians
pay to everything Austrian, our whole position, our measures, our
language. Metternich has fairly enchanted them." Gentz, Nachlasse
(Osten), i. 52.
[287]
[288]
See his remarks in Metternich, iii. 269; an oasis of sense in this desert
of Commonplace.
[289]
[290]
[291]
The papers of the poet Arndt were seized. Among them was a copy of
certain short notes made by the King of Prussia, about 1808, on the
uselessness of a levée en masse. One of these notes was as
follows:-"As soon as a single clergyman is shot" (i.e. by the French)
"the thing would come to an end." These words were published in the
Prussian official paper as an indication that Arndt, worse than Sand,
advocated murdering clergymen! Welcker, Urkunden, p. 89.
[292]
[293]
[294]
[295]
[296]
[297]
Article 57. The intention being that no assembly in any German State
might claim sovereign power as representing the people. If, for
instance, the Bavarian Lower House had asserted that it represented the
sovereignty of the people, and that the King was simply the first
magistrate in the State, this would have been an offence against
Federal law, and have entitled the Diet-i.e. Metternich-to armed
interference. The German State-papers of this time teem with the
constitutional distinction between a Representative Assembly (i.e.
assembly representing popular sovereignty) and an Assembly of
Estates (i.e., of particular orders with limited, definite rights, such as
the granting of a tax). In technical language, the question at issue was
the true interpretation of the phrase Landständische Verfassungen,
used in the 13th article of the original Act of Federation.
[298]
[299]
[300]
The comparison is the Germans' own, not mine. "'How savoury a thin
roast veal is!' said one Hamburg beggar to another. 'Where did you eat
it?' said his friend, admiringly. 'I never ate it at all, but I smelt it as I
passed a great man's house while the dog was being fed.'" (Ilse, p. 57.)
[301]
[302]
[303]
[304]
The late Count of Chambord, or Henry V., son of the Duke of Barry,
was born some months after his father's death.
[305]
[306]
Metternich, iii. 369. "A man must be like me, born and brought up
amid the storm of politics, to know what is the precise meaning of a
shout of triumph like those which now burst from Burdett and Co. He
may have read of it, but I have seen it with my eyes. I was living at the
time of the Federation of 1789. I was fifteen, and already a man."
[307]
[308]
[309]
[310]
[311]
[312]
[313]
Carrascosa p. 44.
[314]
Gentz. D.I., ii. 108, 122. It was rather too much even for the Austrians.
"La conduite de ce malheureux souverain n'a été, dès le
commencement des troubles, qu'un tissu de faiblesse et de duplicité,"
etc. "Voilà l'allié que le ciel a mis entre nos mains, et dont nous avons
à rétablir les intérêts!" Ferdinand was guilty of such monstrous
perjuries and cruelties that the reader ought to be warned not to think
of him as a saturnine and Machiavellian Italian. He was a son of the
Bourbon Charles III. of Spain. His character was that of a jovial, rather
stupid farmer, whom a freak of fortune had made a king from infancy.
A sort of grotesque comic element runs through his life, and through
every picture drawn by persons in actual intercourse with him. The
following, from one of Bentinck's despatches of 1814 (when Ferdinand
had just heard that Austria had promised to keep Murat in Naples), is
very characteristic: "I found his Majesty very much afflicted and very
much roused. He expressed his determination never to renounce the
rights which God had given him.... He said he might be poor, but he
would die honest, and his children should not have to reproach him for
having given up their rights. He was the son of the honest Charles III.
... he was his unworthy offspring, but he would never disgrace his
family.... On my going away he took me by the hand, and said he
hoped I should esteem him as he did me, and begged me to take a
Pheasant pye to a gentleman who had been his constant shooting
companion." Records, Sicily, vol. 97. Ferdinand was the last sovereign
who habitually kept a professional fool, or jester, in attendance upon
him.
[315]
[316]
Except in Sicily, where, however, the course of events had not the
same publicity as on the mainland.
[317]
Verbatim from the Russian Note of April 18. B. and F. State Papers,
vii. 943.
[318]
[319]
Gentz, D.I., ii. 70. "M. le Prince Metternich s'est rendu chez
l'Empereur pour le mettre au fait de ces tristes circonstances. Depuis
que je le connais, je ne l'ai jamais vu aussi frappé d'aucun événement
qu'il l'était hier avant son départ."
[320]
[321]
Gentz, D.I., ii. 76. Metternich, iii. 395. "Our fire-engines were not full
in July, otherwise we should have set to work immediately."
[322]
[323]
[324]
[325]
Metternich, iii. 394. B. and F. State Papers, viii. 1160. Gentz, D. I., ii.
112. The best narrative of the Congress of Troppau is in Duvergier de
Hauranne, vi. 93. The Life of Canning by his secretary, Stapleton,
though it is a work of some authority on this period, is full of
misstatements about Castlereagh. Stapleton says that Castlereagh took
no notice of the Troppau circular of December 8 until it had been for
more than a month in his possession, and suggests that he would never
have protested at all but for the unexpected disclosure of the circular in
a German newspaper. As a matter of fact, the first English protest
against the Troppau doctrine, expressed in a memorandum, "très long,
très positif, assez dur même, et assez tranchant dans son langage," was
handed in to the Congress on December 16 or 19, along with a very
unwelcome note to Metternich. There is some gossip of another of
Canning's secretaries in Greville's Memoirs, i. 105, to the effect that
Castlereagh's private despatches to Troppau differed in tone from his
official ones, which were only written "to throw dust in the eyes of
Parliament." It is sufficient to read the Austrian documents of the time,
teeming as they do with vexation and disappointment at England's
action, to see that this is a fiction.
[326]
[327]
Gentz, Nachlasse (P. Osten), i. 67. Lest the reader should take a
prejudice against Capodistrias for his cunning, I ought to mention here
that he was a man of austere disinterestedness in private life, and one
of the few statesmen of the time who did not try to make money by
politics. His ambition, which was very great, rose above all the meaner
objects which tempt most men. The contrast between his personal
goodness and his unscrupulousness in diplomacy will become more
clear later on.
[328]
[329]
[330]
[331]
[332]
[333]
[334]
Wellington, i. 343.
[335]
[336]
[337]
[338]
Decretos del Rey Fernando, vii. 35, 50, 75. This process, which was
afterwards extended even to common soldiers, was called Purificacion.
Committees were appointed to which all persons coming under the law
had to send in detailed evidence of correct conduct in and since 1820,
signed by some well-known royalists. But the committees also
accepted any letters of denunciation that might be sent to them, and
were bound by law to keep them secret, so that in practice the
Purificacion became a vast system of anonymous persecution.
[339]
[340]
[341]
Decretos, vii. 154. The preamble to this law is perhaps the most
astonishing of all Ferdinand's devout utterances. "My soul is
confounded with the horrible spectacle of the sacrilegious crimes
which impiety has dared to commit against the Supreme Maker of the
universe. The ministers of Christ have been persecuted and sacrificed;
the venerable successor of St. Peter has been outraged; the temples of
the Lord have been profaned and destroyed; the Holy Gospel
depreciated; in fine, the inestimable legacy which Jesus Christ gave in
his last supper to secure our eternal felicity, the Sacred Host, has been
trodden under foot. My soul shudders, and will not be able to return to
tranquillity until, in union with my children, my faithful subjects, I
offer to God holocausts of piety," etc. But for some specimens of
Ferdinand's command of the vernacular, of a very different character,
see Wellington, N.S., ii. 37.
[342]
[343]
See e.g., Stapleton, Canning and his Times p. 378. Wellington often
suggested the use of less peremptory language. Despatches, i. 134,
188[***], Metternich wrote as follows on hearing at Vienna of
Castlereagh's death: "Castlereagh was the only man in his country who
had gained any experience in foreign affairs. He had learned to
understand me. He was devoted to me in heart and spirit, not only from
personal inclination, but from conviction. I awaited him here as my
second self." iii. 391. Metternich, however, was apt to exaggerate his
influence over the English Minister. It was a great surprise to him that
Castlereagh, after gaining decisive majorities in the House of
Commons on domestic questions in 1820, in no wise changed the
foreign policy expressed in the protest against the Declaration of
Troppau.
[344]
[345]
Wellington, i. 188.
[346]
[347]
[348]
[349]
About the year 1830 the theory was started by Fallmerayer, a Tyrolese
writer, that the modern Greeks were the descendants of Slavonic
invaders, with scarcely a drop of Greek blood in their veins.
Fallmerayer was believed by some good scholars to have proved that
the old Greek race had utterly perished. More recent inquiries have
discredited both Fallmerayer and his authorities, and tend to establish
the conclusion that, except in certain limited districts, the Greeks left
were always numerous enough to absorb the foreign incomers. (Hopf,
Griechenland; in Etsch and Gruber's Encyklopädie, vol. 85, p. 100.)
The Albanian population of Greece in 1820 is reckoned at about
one-sixth.
[350]
[351]
The Greek songs illustrate the conversion of the Armatole into the
Klepht in the age preceding the Greek revolution. Thus, in the fine
ballad called "The Tomb of Demos," which Goethe has translated, the
dying man says-
"Bring the priest that he may shrive me; that I may tell him the sins
that I have committed, thirty years an Armatole and twenty years a
Klepht." -Fauriel, Chants Populaires, i. 56.
[352]
[353]
[354]
Literally, Interpreter; the old theory of the Turks being that in their
dealings with foreign nations they had only to receive petitions, which
required to be translated into Turkish.
[355]
[356]
[357]
[358]
[359]
[360]
[361]
[362]
[363]
[364]
[365]
[366]
[367]
[368]
[369]
[370]
[371]
[372]
[373]
B. and F. State Papers, xiv. 630; Metternich, iv. 161, 212, 320, 372;
Willington, N.S., ii. 85, 148, 244; Gentz, D.I., iii. 315.
[374]
B. and F. State Papers, xiv. 632; xvii. 20; Wellington, N.S., iv. 57.
[375]
Parl. Deb., May 11, 1877. Nothing can be more misleading than to say
that Canning never contemplated the possibility of armed action
because a clause in the Treaty of 1827 made the formal stipulation that
the contracting Powers would not "take part in the hostilities between
the contending parties." How, except by armed force, could the Allies
"prevent, in so far as might be in their power, all collision between the
contending parties," which, in the very same clause, they undertook to
do? And what was the meaning of the stipulation that they should
"transmit instructions to their Admirals conformable to these
provisions"? Wellington himself, before the battle of Navarino,
condemned the Treaty of London on the very ground that it "specified
means of compulsion which were neither more nor less than measures
of war;" and he protested against the statement that the treaty arose
directly out of the Protocol of St. Petersburg, which was his own work.
Wellington, N.S., iv. 137, 221.
[376]
[377]
[378]
[379]
Viel-Castel, xx. 16. Russia was to have had the Danubian Provinces;
Austria was to have had Bosnia and Servia; Prussia was to have had
Saxony and Holland; the King of Holland was to have reigned at
Constantinople.
[380]
[381]
[382]
[383]
[384]
[385]
[386]
[387]
[388]
[389]
[390]
[391]
[392]
[393]
[394]
[395]
[396]
[397]
[398]
[399]
[400]
[401]
Rosen, i. 158. Prokesch von Osten, Kleine Schriften, vii. 56. Mehmed
Ali, p. 17. Hillebrand, i. 514 Metternich, v. 481. B. and F. State Papers,
xx. 1176; xxii. 140.
[402]
[403]
[404]
[405]
[406]
Down to 1827 not only was all land inherited by nobles free from
taxation, but any taxable land purchased by a noble thereupon became
tax-free. The attempt of the Government to abolish this latter injustice
evoked a storm of anger in the Diet of 1825, and still more in the
country assemblies, some of the latter even resolving that such law, if
passed, fey the Diet, would be null and void.
[407]
[408]
[409]
[410]
Guizot, viii. 101, Palmerston, iii. 194. Parl. Papers, 1847. Martin's
Prince Consort, i. 341.
[411]
Metternich, vii. 538, 603; Vitzthum, Berlin und Wien, 1845-62, p. 78;
Kossuth Werke (1850), ii. 78; Pillersdorff, Rückblicke, p. 22;
Reschauer, Das Jahr 1848, i. 191; Springer, Geschichte Oesterreichs,
ii. 185; Irányi et Chassin, Révolution de Hongrie, i. 128.
[412]
[413]
[414]
[415]
[416]
[417]
[418]
[419]
[420]
[421]
[422]
[423]
Oeuvres de Napoleon III., iii. 13, 24. Granier de Cassagnac, ii. 16.
Jerrold, Napoleon III., ii. 393.
[424]
[425]
[426]
[427]
[428]
[429]
The real meaning of the Charters is, however, contested. Springer, ii.
281. Adlerstein, Archiv, i. 166. Helfert, ii. 255. Irányi et Chassin, i.
236. Die Serbische Wolwodschaftsfrage, p. 7.
[430]
But see Kossuth, Schriften (1880, ii. 215), for a conversation between
Jellacic and Batthyány, said to have been narrated to Kossuth by the
latter. If authentic, this certainly proves Jellacic to have used the Slavic
agitation from the first solely for Austrian ends. See also Vitzthuin, p.
207.
[431]
[432]
[433]
[434]
[435]
[436]
[437]
Helfert, iv. (2) 326. Klapka, War in Hungary, i. 23. Irányi et Chassin,
ii. 534. Görgei, ii. 54.
[438]
Klapka, War, ii. 106. Erinnerungen, 58. Görgei, ii. 378. Kossuth,
Schriften (1880), ii. 291. Codex der neuen Gesetze, i. 75, 105.
[439]
Farini, ii. 404. Parl. Pap., 1849. lvii. 607; lviii. (2) 117. Bianchi,
Diplomazia, vi. 67. Gennarelli, Sventure, p. 29. Pasolini, p. 139.
[440]
Schönhals, p. 332. Parl. Pap., 1849, lviii. (2) 216. Bianchi, Politica
Austriaca, p. 134. Lamarmora, Un Episodie, p. 175. Portafogli ci
Ramorino, p. 41. Ramorino was condemned to death, and executed.
[441]
[442]
[443]
[444]
[445]
[446]
[447]
[448]
Verhandlungen, viii. 6093. Beseler, p. 82. Helfert, iv. (3) 390, Haym,
ii. 317, Radowitz, v. 477.
[449]
[450]
[451]
[452]
Der Fürsten Kongress, p. 13. Reden Friedrich Wilhelms, iv pp. 55, 69.
Konferenz der Verbundeten, 1850, pp. 26, 53. Beust, Erinnerungen, i.
115, Ernst II., i. 525. Duncker, Vier Monate, p. 41.
[453]
Ernst II., i. 377. Hertslet, Map of Europe, ii. 1106, 1129, 1151. Parl.
Papers, 1864, lxiii., p. 29; 1804, lxv., pp. 30, 187.
[454]
[455]
[456]
[457]
[458]
[459]
[460]
[461]
[462]
[463]
[464]
[465]
[466]
[467]
Treaty of April 20, 1854, and Additional Article, Eastern Papers, ix.
61. The Treaty between Austria and Prussia was one of general
defensive alliance, covering also the case of Austria incurring attack
through an advance into the Principalities. In the event of Russia
annexing the Principalities or sending its troops beyond the Balkans
the alliance was to be offensive.
[468]
[469]
[470]
[471]
Eastern Papers, xi. 3. Ashley's Palmerston, ii. 60. For the navigation of
the mouths of the Danube, see Diplomatic Study, ii. 39. Russia, which
had been in possession of the mouths of the Danube since the Treaty of
Adrianople, and had undertaken to keep the mouths clear, had allowed
[472]
[473]
[474]
[475]
[476]
[477]
[478]
[479]
Prussia was admitted when the first Articles had been settled, and it
became necessary to revise the Treaty of July, 1841, of which Prussia
had been one of the signatories.
[480]
[481]
Three pages of promises. Eastern Papers, xvii. One was kept faithfully.
"To accomplish these objects, means shall be sought to profit by the
science, the art, and the funds of Europe." One of the drollest of the
prophecies of that time is the congratulatory address of the
Missionaries to Lord Stratford de Redcliffe, id. 1882.-"The Imperial
Hatti-sheriff has convinced us that our fond expectations are likely to
be realised. The light will shine upon those who have long sat in
darkness; and blest by social prosperity and religious freedom, the
millions of Turkey will, we trust, be seen ere long sitting peacefully
under their own vine and fig-tree." So they were, and with poor Lord
Stratford's fortune, among others, in their pockets.
[482]
All verbatim from the Treaty. Parl. Papers, 1856, vol 61, p. 1.
[483]
[484]
[485]
[486]
Cavour, Lettere (Chiala), ii. introd. pp. 289, 324; iii. introd. p. i.
Bianchi, Diplomazia, vii. 1, Mazade, Cavour, p. 187, Massari, La
Marmora, p. 204.
[487]
[488]
La Farina Epistolaria, ii. 56, 81, 137, 426. The interview with
Garibaldi; Cavour, Letiere, id. introd. p. 297. Garibaldi, Epistolario, i.
55.
[489]
Cavour, Lettere (Chiala), iii. introd. p. 32. Bianchi, Diplomazia, viii. II.
The statement of Napoleon III. to Lord Cowley, in Martin Prince
Consort, v. 31, that there was no Treaty, is untrue.
[490]
[491]
[492]
[493]
Cavour, Lettere, iii. introd. 212, iii. 107. Bianchi, Politique de Cavour,
p. 319. Bianchi, Diplomazia, viii. 145, 198. Massari, Vittorio
Emanuele, ii. 32. Kossuth, Memories p. 394. Parl. Pap. 1859, xxxii. 63,
1860, lxviii. 7. La Farina Epist, ii. 190. Ollivier, L'Église et l'État, ii.
452.
[494]
[495]
Cavour, Lettere, iii. introd. 301. Bianchi, viii. 180. Garibaldi, Epist., i.
79. Guerzoni, i. 491. Reuchlin, iv. 410.
[496]
[497]
[498]
Garibaldi, Epist., i. 97. Persano, Diario, i. 14. Le Farina, Epist., ii. 324.
Guerzoni, ii. 23. Parliamentary Papers, 1860, lxviii. 2. Mundy, H.M.S.
Hannibal at Palermo, p. 133.
[499]
Cavour, Lettere, iii. introd. 269. La Farina, Epist., ii. 336. Bianchi,
Politique, p. 366. Persano, Diario, i. 50, 72, 96.
[500]
Bianchi, Politique, p. 377. Persano, ii. p. 1-102. Persano sent his Diary
in MS. to Azeglio, and asked his advice on publishing it. Azeglio
referred to Cavour's saying, "If we did for ourselves what we are doing
for Italy, we should be sad blackguards," and begged Persano to let his
secrets be secrets, saying that since the partition of Poland no
confession of such "colossal blackguardism" had been published by
any public man.
[501]
[502]
[503]
[504]
"Le comte le reconnu, lui serra la main et dit: 'Frate, frate, libera chiesa
in libero stato' Ce furent ses dernières paroles." Account of the death of
Cavour by his niece, Countess Alfieri, in La Rive, Cavour, p. 319.
[505]
[506]
[507]
[508]
[509]
[510]
[511]
[512]
[513]
[514]
Parliamentary Papers, 1864, vol. lxiv. pp. 28, 263. Hahn, Bismarck, i.
165.
[515]
From Rechberg's despatch of Feb 28, 1863 (in Hahn, i. 84), apparently
quoting actual words uttered by Bismarck. Bismarck's account of the
conversation (id. 80) tones it down to a demand that Austria should not
encroach on Prussia's recognised joint-leadership in Germany.
[516]
[517]
[518]
[519]
[520]
La Marmora, Un po più di luce, pp. 109, 146, Jacini, Due Anni, p. 154.
Hahn, i. 377. In the first draft of the Treaty Italy was required to
declare war not only on Austria but on all German Governments which
should join it. King William, who had still some compunction in
calling in Italian arms against the Fatherland, struck out these words.
[521]
[522]
[523]
[524]
[525]
[526]
[527]
Benedetti, p. 191. Hahn, i. 508; ii. 328, 635. See also La Marmora's Un
po più di luce, p. 242, and his Segreti di Stato, p. 274. Govone's
despatches strongly confirm the view that Bismarck was more than a
mere passive listener to French schemes for the acquisition of
Belgium. That he originated the plan is not probable; that he
encouraged it seems to me quite certain, unless various French and
Italian documents unconnected with one another are forgeries from
beginning to end. On the outbreak of the war of 1870 Bismarck
published the text of the draft-treaty discussed in 1866 providing for an
offensive and defensive alliance between France and Prussia, and the
seizure of Belgium by France. The draft was in Benedetti's
handwriting, and written on paper of the French Embassy. Benedetti
stated in answer that he had made the draft at Bismarck's dictation.
This might seem very unlikely were it not known that the draft of the
Treaty between Prussia and Italy in 1866 was actually so written down
by Barral, the Italian Ambassador, at Bismarck's dictation.
[528]
[529]
[530]
[531]
[532]
[533]
[534]
[535]
[536]
[537]
[538]
[539]
[540]
[541]
[542]
[543]
Favre's circular alleged that the King of Prussia had declared that he
made war not on France but on the Imperial Dynasty. King William
had never stated anything of the kind. His proclamation on entering
France, to which Favre appears to have referred, merely said that the
war was to he waged against the French army, and not against the
inhabitants, who, so long as they kept quiet, would not be molested.
[544]
[545]
[546]
[547]
[548]
[549]
[550]
See Burke's speech on the Russian armament, March 29, 1791, and the
passage on "the barbarous anarchic despotism" of Turkey in his
Reflections on the French Revolution, p. 150, Clar. edit. Burke lived
and died in Beaconsfield, and his grave is there. There seems,
however, to be no evidence for the story that he was about to receive a
peerage with the title of Beaconsfield, when the death of his son broke
all his hopes.
[551]
Parl. Pap. 1877, vol. xc., p. 642; 1878, vol. lxxxi., p. 679.
[552]
[553]
Parl. Pap. 1878, vol. lxxxi., pp. 661, 725. Parl. Deb., vol. ccxxxvii.
[554]
The Treaty, with Maps, is in Parl. Pap. 1878, vol. lxxxiii. p. 239.
[555]
Parl. Pap. 1878, vl. lxxxii., p. 3. Globe, May 31, 1878. Hahn, iii. 116.
Transcriber's Note:
(1) Footnotes have been numbered and collected at the end of the work.
(2) Sidenotes have been placed in brackets prior to the paragraph in which they occur.
(3) In a few places (all in the footnotes) the text in our print copy was illegible and has
been marked with a [***].
(4) The spelling in the print copy was not always consistent. Irregular words in the
original (e.g., "ascendent," "Christain," and "Würtemburg") have been retained
whenever possible.
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